


Aimless

by Brynn_Jones



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bipolar Fiona, Blow Jobs, Crushes, First Meetings, First Time, Gym, Insecure Mickey, Jealousy, M/M, Responsible Ian, Rimming, Soldier Ian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3799228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynn_Jones/pseuds/Brynn_Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey Milkovich knows he'll never be anything else other than a useless thug without a future, living a boring life and most likely ending up in jail sooner or later. Will any of that change when he meets a hard working redhead whose whole life revolves around taking care of his siblings? Will he manage to finally find a direction or will he give up for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The House of Milkovich

**Author's Note:**

> I will be adding tags as I go, this will be a longer story :)  
> Not beta-read.

"Move your legs asshat."

Mickey Milkovich slowly blinked his eyes open to see his sister leaning over him with a cheerful expression on her face. Mickey scowled, a cheerful Mandy was never good news.

"What are you watching?" she asked, motioning with her dark-haired head towards the running telly. Mickey looked around from where he was half-lying on the couch in the living room, ignoring the three empty beer cans digging into his side. He had fallen asleep while watching some documentary about truck drivers and now there was some stupid-ass wedding dress show on the screen.

Mickey rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I wasn't watching that," he bit out.

His sister snorted as she flopped next to him. "Right, so you won't mind if I put on Supernatural?"

"That the faggy angel shit?"

He got punched in the stomach for his comment but his sister was in a good mood so it didn't hurt as much as it could have. Speaking of good mood ...

"What got you so cheery anyway?"

Mandy turned to him, tearing her eyes from some sort of fancy clothed demon. "I had a good shift at the diner. There was this group of hot German guys that didn't know how to properly tip, so they ended up tipping more than they probably meant to. One more day like that and I could buy that dress I wanted."

Mickey rolled his eyes, picking up a nearby beer can and shaking it to see if there was any beer left. There wasn't. "Why don't you just pinch it if you want it so much?"

The girl rolled her eyes at him. "I'm trying not to follow in Terry's footsteps, thank you very much. You could try it too, you know? Paying for something instead of stealing it for a change."

Mickey scoffed. Terry was their piece of shit father who spent the better part of his life in the can for dealing drugs and violent assaults. He used to take all of his children for drug runs before the Milkovichs got too well known on the streets for their unfair deals and unwarranted violence that people started refusing to do business with them.

Presently, Terry was doing his third year in jail of his five-year sentence for beating a police officer to a pulp and the Milkovich children were left to take care of themselves. It wasn't too bad, Mickey thought, there were only three of them, at least that they knew of.

Iggy was the eldest at twenty-three years old and he also carried the most responsibility. He took on various jobs around the neighbourhood, mowing lawns, cleaning pools, helping old ladies move their heavy furniture or making sure no hot mom would ever miss their husband whenever they were away, just to pay the bills. Mandy, the youngest, worked at a local diner so they could afford clothes and from time to time she also brought some leftovers for dinner.

Mickey himself added to the family's fund by stealing stuff like electronics, booze and any other thing they needed at the moment. He didn't work because he refused to adhere to any kind of schedule. Schedules were boring. He instead chose to spend his days playing video games, which were also kind of boring but you could at least shoot innocent people in them and not get locked up.

"Fuck off," he finally said, getting up to open another beer, "I don't give you hell about your life, so leave mine alone."

Mandy turned away from the TV and stared at him incredulously. "You don't _have_ a life, Mick! You just sit here all day doing nothing and pretend that it doesn't bother you."

"It doesn't bother me."

Mandy opened her mouth, most likely to spew more shit at him, when the front door opened and Iggy entered the messy living room.

"How's it going, bitches?" he yelled at the top of his lungs, kicking the door shut behind himself.

Mandy chucked a dirty T-shirt that laid on the floor Iggy's way. "You're a bitch, bitch."

"Wow, Mands, your comebacks are getting better. You thought of that yourself?" teased the tall man, ducking the piece of cloth easily. Mickey rolled his eyes, gulping down his newly acquired beer. Iggy was a good man but he was often so loud and overbearing that Mickey couldn't help but wonder if they were even related.

"You wouldn't believe what happened to me today," continued his brother as he pulled out his own beer out of the fridge, "this old hag whose pool I've been cleaning has recommended me to her friends, right? And I thought that I was just going to meet a few different old ladies that are gonna be pinching my cheeks, but man was I wrong! That witch has some _fine_ friends, if you know what I mean. Them ladies will be pinching some different cheeks soon enough," finished Iggy with a lewd gesture.

"You are a pig, Igor," chided Mandy in her best high school teacher voice.

Iggy grinned at her before turning to Mickey. "I can hook you up if you want? Get rid of that blasted virginity of yours, watcha say?"

Mickey flipped him off and thinking he gave a good enough response, he headed towards the back of the house, where his bedroom was. Contrary to what Iggy thought, Mickey wasn't a virgin. One does not turn nineteen in Southside and be a virgin, but he didn't particularly want to admit that sex just didn't do it for him. Sex with females that is.

Now, he had never slept with a man but he instinctively knew that it would be a completely different story. Well, he says instinctively, in reality the knowledge comes from a blowjob he once received in a back alley after a drug deal. That one night made him re-evaluate his sexuality and he had to come to terms with being a gay kid in a gay-bashing neighbourhood. He was even afraid to come out to his family.

Mickey flopped down on his bed, kicking an empty packet of cigarettes off his duvet. His siblings were getting more annoying every day, constantly bugging him about getting a job and do something worthwhile with his life. They just couldn't understand that he didn't want what they had. He didn't want a job, he didn't want to go to school, he had no intention to 'make something of himself'.

He didn't have either Iggy's creativity or Mandy's brains. They had to get them from their mother, he supposed, while he himself inherited only his father's rotten genes. He figured he'd just end up in the can like daddy dearest and that was the end of it.

The next day, he woke up way after one o'clock in the afternoon to Mandy banging on his door and shouting: "Wake up fuck head, I need your help!"

Mickey groaned before heaving himself up from his comfortable bed. He sniffed at his armpits to check if he needed a shower and decided it'll keep for one more day, before going to see what his bitch of a sister wanted from him.

Mandy was crouching in the hallway, frowning at their washing machine. She looked up when he joined her. "It leaks."

"So?"

"So? So repair it, you dick!"

Mickey scowled. He always ended up fixing things around the household because he had once been stupid enough to admit that it was a piece of cake for him. Now any time anything broke, be it the hand mixer or the washing machine, they called him to solve the problem. It's not like it was anything hard though, he reckoned anyone could figure out how all the wires or plumbing fit together if they had enough time.

Mickey sighed heavily. "Fine, shove over so I can have a look."

Mandy grinned at him. "Sure thing, Bob the Builder, shout when it's ready so I can put the load in." She patted him on the back and left in the direction of the kitchen, hopefully to bring him some breakfast. As if she had read his thoughts, Mandy poked her head from the kitchen doorway. "By the way, you missed lunch. If you want anything to eat, you can order yourself a pizza or something. If you have money to pay, that is."

"Shut the fuck up and buy me a pizza, bitch. You want manual labour, you gotta pay for it."

"Just this once, Mick. You better get a job, so you don't starve to death next time."

The thug decided to ignore her. He didn't want to turn the conversation into a full-blown fight, because as much as he sometimes hated her, he also kind of liked his sister and he didn't want to have to apologize for anything he might say to her during an argument. Mickey pulled the leaking machine away from the wall, checking for any breaks or tears in the plumbing. Finding none, he decided to open the back of the white box. He pulled away the lid with some difficulty and startled as a flow of murky water poured over his trainers.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly as his shoes squelched on the hallway linoleum. Mickey stood up, almost slipping as he rightened. "Fucking fuck," he added as he carefully toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks.

A knock sounded from the front door and Mandy went to answer it, completely ignoring her brother's predicament. A few seconds later, she pranced back with a large pizza box in her hands.

"I ordered Pepperoni for you, dickhead, come eat."

Mickey looked at her, then at his unfinished work and then back at Mandy. He decided to leave the washing machine to its own devices for the moment and followed his sister into the living room. He planted himself next to her on the couch and grabbed a piece of pizza, shoving almost half of it in his mouth.

Mandy un-muted the TV, where Tom Cruise was just hanging off a tall-ass building in a Mission Impossible film. Mickey stared at the screen for a while, not remembering exactly how the scene ended, and grabbed another piece of his lunch. 

Just as the actor with the great ass was pulling Cruise back up the window, Mandy spoke with a shit-eating grin on her face: "So, I met a real hot piece of ass today at work."

"The fuck makes you think I care?"

Mandy shrugged. "Tall, muscular, red-headed, kinda tanned ... exactly my type."

Mickey snorted, turning away from the telly now that there were no asses on display. "You don't have a type. You'd fuck anything with a dong."

Mandy didn't even look offended, most likely knowing Mickey was right, instead she went on: "Not the point. Thing is, he was hot and he was totally into me."

"Yeah? Then why haven't you fucked him yet?"

Mandy stole a piece of pizza from the box, managing to show him a middle finger at the same time. "I don't know, he was in a hurry I guess."

"Yeah, to get away from your dirty muff."

"Shut up, fucker," she scowled at him, apparently angry that she hadn't been successful with her diner crush, "you better get back to that washing machine," she finished as she slapped him across the wrist when he was about to grab the last piece of pizza.

Mickey let her have it and rose from the couch to get back to his work. He sighed theatrically at the sight of the off-white water still on the floor, shuffling to the bathroom to get a rug. He cleaned up the floor quickly, not bothering to do it nicely, and finally took a good look at the plumbing inside the machine. The crack in the main pipe was obvious at the first glance and Mickey fist pumped secretly, when he noticed that he had the spare part to repair the leak in the basement.

It took him barely ten minutes to secure everything in its proper place and at quarter past two, his sister was already back to doing the laundry. Mickey only stayed long enough to check if his clothes were in the pile and when he made sure of it, he went back to his room to grab a jacket, before heading out the door. He needed a smoke and they were all out at the house, so he decided to stop at the local convenience store and buy a pack.

He lit his cigarette on the way back home, looking around absently for any easy pick pocketing targets or unlocked cars he could look inside of. He wasn't very lucky. He only saw one possible mark, who at the sight of him walking down the street immediately entered the nearest home, and the cars that were unlocked were also already free of any valuables.

He entered the house through the back door, hearing voices coming from the living room and deciding to avoid them and head straight for his room. Iggy had apparently some friends over and Mickey didn't feel like socializing and not even the free weed, that was bound to be available, was enough to make him reconsider.

He sat down on his window sill, pulling out another cigarette and letting it dangle from his lips without lighting it for a minute. He could see a pair of high school kids helping an old lady to weed her garden down the street and he thought of Iggy cleaning out pools and Mandy waiting on hungry customers. On one hand, he admired his siblings for trying to live respectable lives now that Terry was jailed and he felt like he should maybe help them out by doing some odd jobs here and there as well, but on the other hand, he couldn't imagine himself doing anything without screwing it up. Every job was either too boring or too demanding for him to even try. It was better not to even try rather than starting something he knew he would fuck up sooner or later.

No one would ever hire a Milkovich anyway.

It was a few hours later that the commotion down the hall quietened and Mickey decided to go and grab something to eat. As he stepped through the living room, he saw a few crack heads passed out in front of the TV, while Iggy was hanging old Christmas lights around his own neck. Mandy was nowhere to be seen and it took Mickey a few minutes to realize she must be at the diner, working her late shift.

The thug pulled out his phone to check the time and noticed he had a new text message from his sister. It read:

_'you up to going to the gym w me?'_

It was nothing new, Mandy asked him to go almost every other day but it was a lost cause. He never went, not really caring about what he looked like.

He responded with a quick _'no'_ and shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket, opening their barely working fridge at the same time. Finding it completely empty, he went to look into their snack cupboard. Looking around to check if anyone was watching him, he stretched up on his tiptoes and blindly managed to pluck a bag of crisps from the lowest shelf.

Fuck being short, he thought as he tore into his dinner.


	2. The Redhead

"I need a new phone," exclaimed Iggy as soon as he sat down to eat. They had leftover bacon and toast from the diner with a side of soggy chips but no one complained since it was free food. Mandy also managed to steal a piece of cherry pie but they decided to leave it for later.

Mickey swallowed a mouthful of bacon and looked up at his brother. "Any preferences?"

Iggy shrugged. "Well, I have an iPhone charger from that time you went to the KFC food court downtown..." he trailed of suggestively. 

The shorter man smirked. "You got it, Ig." 

It wasn't that hard to find an idiot who couldn't keep an eye on his things. If he had to write a list of things he was thankful for in his life, people who put their phones and wallets into their back pockets would be right there at the top. It was just a matter of switching the phone for a piece of folded cardboard, so even if the mark feels someone brushing against them, when they feel their pocket, it seems the phone is still in there. Mickey could do it with his eyes closed.

Mandy rolled her eyes at them. "This family is fucked up."

"And you only just noticed?" asked Iggy, soaking up the fat on his plate with a piece of toast.

Their sister shot him a dirty look as she too finished her meal. She got up. "Well, I don't know about you, dickheads, but I'm going out. Cole is throwing a garden party at his house and I hope to finally find someone worthy of my time."

Cole was Mandy's co-worker at the diner, a nice dude with a girly face and weird demonic tattoos down his arms, whose family was one of the richer ones in Southside and who had the biggest crush on their sister. Mandy knew about it and she wasn't afraid to use it to her advantage, constantly stringing him along, so that he bought her stuff and invited her to his parties.

Mickey suspected that the guy realized this but was either too nice or too hopeful to send her to hell. But that was just his sister, always getting whatever she wanted. 

Mickey swallowed his last mouthful and went to his room to get changed, leaving the dirty dishes for someone else to clean up. He planned to go north to 'shop' for Iggy's new phone and he had to dress the part if he didn't want to get arrested the second he stepped his dirty foot downtown. Speaking of dirty, he sniffed at his armpits and admitted to himself that he really needed a shower this time.

He peeled off his wife beater and unzipped his jeans, letting them both fall to the floor on his way to the bathroom. Then he locked himself in, shucked his pants and turned on the water.

As he waited for the water heater to start working, he thought once again about that unexpected blowjob he got a few years back, the dude's face unclear but the feeling of wet suction still fresh in his mind. It was a cold day in October, he had just turned sixteen that week, and his father gave him instructions for a simple weed run. 

The deal went without a hitch and Mickey was just about to go back home to report to Terry, when a young shaggy blond approached him, asking for a few joints. It turned out the guy didn't have money but was willing to pay by giving him a hummer. Mickey didn't want to accept at first, denying vehemently that he was gay but the dude was insistent and Mickey figured it couldn't be too different form the way a girl does it, so he accepted in the end. He couldn't have been more wrong. Just the knowledge that the person blowing him was a guy made him come in a record time and the pleasantly tingling feeling didn't leave him for another two days. 

Finally stepping inside the shower, he grabbed his slowly raising erection and slowly started pumping his fist over it. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine the dude from the alley but came up empty, so he settled for that Mission Impossible actor with the great ass. He was better looking anyway.

He imagined him on his knees in front of Mickey, slowly opening his mouth and licking along the length of the thug's dick. He could see the muscles in the actor's back rippling as he bobbed his head up and down and he couldn't help but moan quietly at the picture, widening his stance slightly to keep his balance. It was when the imaginary man started teasing his slit, when Mickey decided to stop playing around and started jerking himself off in earnest. It didn't take him long to paint the shower wall with his spunk and when he caught breath, he took great care to wash it all off.

He washed his hair quickly as well as his whole body and by the time the water ran cold, he was out of the shower. He pulled on one of his better trousers, paired them with a clean blue T-shirt and soon he found himself walking towards the L.

It was just after five when he reached the Northside, so the streets were full of people returning from their jobs, an ideal time for pick pocketing. He looked up and down the main street, smiling to himself as he picked a direction and started walking.

He passed a few pedestrians, checking out their back pockets, while trying to look like he's not overly interested in their asses and came upon three possible marks, one of which was an uniformed policeman. He entertained the idea of actually nicking the cop's phone but decided against it in the end. He would probably end up in jail one day but there was no reason for it to be today.

He ended up picking a blah-looking college student with loose jeans that had an iPhone 5 in the back pocket, trailing him for a few minutes to lose sight of the cop and then he pounced. The practiced movement was so quick that not even a Southsider might have noticed it and soon the student was walking away with a folded piece of Cheerio box in his trousers and Mickey was left with a good as new phone in his hand.

A piece of cake, really.

After his return home, a wad of stolen cash keeping the phone company in his pockets, he looked around the empty house. Iggy was somewhere cleaning out pools or mowing lawns or whatever and Mandy was at her wanna-be-boyfriend's garden party, chatting up willing prey.

Mickey threw the iPhone on Iggy's bed, stubbornly ignoring the numerous posters of naked women his brother has plastered all over his walls, before heading for the kitchen and pulling out a beer. He certainly deserved it.

There was some science show running on the telly, some creepy looking dudes trying to chop up an aeroplane, and Mickey decided to sit down and watch since he had nothing better to do. He wasn't even halfway through the episode when his phone rang with an uncomfortably loud Jaws soundtrack, indicating his sister was trying to reach him.

He picked it up. "Yeah?"

There was the sound of people cheering to be heard at the other end of the line, before Mandy's high pitched voice appeared: "Hey, Mick. You think you could clean up at the house a bit?"

The thug looked at the phone in his hand in astonishment before putting it back to his ear. "The fuck? Why the hell would I do that?"

"Come on. I met that really hot guy from the diner at the party and I really want to take him home but I don't want him to see the trash we live in."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Look, he's probably not even gonna care, why do I have to play maid for someone I don't know?"

Mandy was insistent. "But he's really hot and nice and I really want to fuck him. Come on, Mick, he's already a bit weirded out as it is."

Her whiny voice was starting to piss Mickey off. "Just bring him over and stop fucking bugging me. Trust me, he's not gonna care for anything else other than your wrinkly pussy."

She huffed. "Fuck you too, Mick. You're disgusting." And with that she hung up.

Mickey snorted, tucking his mobile back into his jeans and turning his attention back to the show. What the fuck did he care about Mandy's boyfriends anyway? The guy should get used to the mess if he wants to spend time with her, and if it's not serious that what does it matter what he thinks?

It wasn't until after Mandy opened the front door, stepped in and gave him an exasperated look upon seeing him sitting all comfortable on the couch, that Mickey understood the real message behind the phone call. She didn't want him to only clean up the mess they had at the house, she wanted him to clean out as well.

He was just about to heave himself up to abide her wishes, and turn some music on in his room, so he wouldn't have to hear his sister fucking, when he finally saw the guy. Mandy hadn't exaggerated for once, the man that had came in after his sister was really fucking hot. Tall, muscles bulging underneath his thin T-shirt, hair as red as blood and smile wide as if he was the happiest person on earth.

"I really appreciate you inviting me over, Mandy," he said and fuck if his voice wasn't really nice too, all raspy from smoking weed at the party - going by the way his pupils were dilated and his eyes red, "but I honestly can't stay long. I need to make sure the kids are in bed at a civilized hour."

It took all of Mickey's self-control not to blurt out the question resting on the tip of his tongue. Kids? What kids? But Mandy took the reins of the conversation before he could make an idiot out of himself by asking questions he has no right to know the answers to: "Oh Ian, this is my brother Mickey. Mick, this is Ian."

The redhead smiled at him in acknowledgement and sat down on the couch next to Mickey, never even asking for permission. Mandy continued: "So you were talking about your siblings right?"

"Yeah, they would hate me for saying this, but they need some sort of order in their lives. Ever since our parents bailed on us, we've been sort of just scraping through."

Not having any interest in listening to a sob story, Mickey was once again about to just get up and leave, when Mandy turned to him. "You see, Mick, Ian here is singlehandedly taking care of all of his siblings. He works like three or four jobs, isn't that crazy?"

Mickey apparently didn't have a choice but to participate, so he murmured: "Yeah, crazy stupid."

The guy, Ian, didn't seem offended. "Yeah well, it's not really easy juggling all of my responsibilities as well as school. My grades are so fucking far below average it's not even funny but I have to make it work somehow. Can't have the kids grow up like I did."

Mandy put on her sympathetic face as she joined them on the couch, squeezing herself in between him and Ian. "How _did_ you grow up?"

Ian laughed self depreciatively . "Like any other Southside kid, I guess."

Mickey thought the guy suddenly didn't look as comfortable talking about his fucked-up life as he seemed to be at first. He was sort of curling in on himself and his eyes were shifty. Mandy was relentless though and he couldn't help but wonder however she managed to ever get laid.

"How many siblings do you have?" she asked.

Ian looked at her. "Five. Two older, three younger. Fiona, the eldest has moved out two years ago to live with her husband, leaving me and Lip to deal with the rest. Lip is now at college though and he doesn't have time to work, so it's up to me."

Mickey raised his eyebrows. That was the biggest pile of crap he's ever heard. So Ian had two older siblings that are presumably perfectly capable of taking care of their siblings but they decided to go in their parent's footsteps and leave them to fend for themselves. Utter bullshit, if you asked him, that's something a Milkovich kid would never do.

Mandy apparently thought the same thing as she opened her mouth to comment: "That's fucked, Ian. Why does it have to be _you_ to sacrifice school and all that shit?"

The redhead shrugged. "Someone has to. I can't leave the kids alone, Liam's five for fuck's sake."

Mandy tried to ask him some more questions about his life and his siblings, all the while pushing her cleavage towards him, but Ian clammed up and steered the conversation towards the two Milkoviches: "And what about you? How's life treating you?"

Mandy preened. "Well, I have a job as a waitress at JJ's," she started, looking at Ian expectantly. And the redhead really seemed to realize something.

"The JJ's? Really? I go there quite often," he seemed happy about that fact for some reason. His next words however made Mandy's smile freeze on her face: "How come I've never seen you in there?"

"Uh, I guess I work different shifts than you ... you know," she stuttered out after a while and it was all Mickey could do not to laugh.

That was all kinds of rich. The guy she was so into didn't even notice her at the diner and going by the way his eyes never strayed to Mandy's tits, he wasn't noticing her now. Seeing as nothing interesting was about to happen in the near future, Mickey pulled out his phone to look at the clock, really more out of boredom than a need to know what time it was, and sighed.

"Well, it's already ten, so I'm gonna go. You two have fun."

Ian startled at his words. "Ten? Fuck, I have to get home."

Mickey watched as the redhead jumped up from the couch and went straight or the door, only getting intercepted by Mandy.

"Wait, you're already leaving?" she pouted, hanging herself onto Ian's arm.

"Yes, I have to go. Liam was supposed to be asleep at nine and I doubt either Debs or Carl made sure he did."

Mandy pressed up against him. "I'm sure they'll be fine for a few more minutes, Ian. I thought we could have some more fun tonight."

He seemed to finally catch on to her flirting. "Oh, uh Mandy. I'm flattered, really but you're not really my type, you know? I mean, I don't have a type but ... that is, not a girl type, anyway." He was growing more and more frustrated with himself as Mandy stared at him, so he finally blurted out: "I'm gay."

Smooth, real smooth, thought Mickey. Mandy just had to go and try to bed the only guy at that stupid arty that was never going to look at her twice. Mickey snorted, finding the whole situation hilarious, before Ian's words truly registered in his mind and he froze. Fucking fucked fuck. The hot, well-built, tanned guy Mickey was secretly ogling all evening was gay. Gay, as in interested in guys. Just like Mickey gay. Fuck.

He watched in daze as Ian left the house and swore quietly. Too bad the guy was way too responsible and conscientious  to ever consider hooking up with someone like Mickey. Why would a man whose day ran on a tight schedule be interested in a thug with no ambition or direction in life?

Fuck, indeed.


	3. You're Gay

Fucking cops.

Mickey was walking down the street, hoping to find someone he could beat on to relieve some of that frustration he carried ever since that stupid redhead left their house two days before. It wasn't as easy as one would think though, every time he found a viable target, some sort of copper went by and gave him a suspicious look.

Really, fucking cops.

He showed his tattooed middle finger to a traffic warden standing at the corner and turned around to go back home, huffing and puffing in annoyance the whole way. He'd just have to get drunk instead, he figured.

Four cans of disgusting beer - Mandy bought the wrong brand again - and two shots of some low shelf vodka later, Mickey was sprawled across his bed, his head pleasantly swimming. He closed his eyes, getting bored of watching the cracked ceiling above his bed.

It was a nice bed, really soft, he thought as he moved his arms across the sheets, almost caressing the material. Interesting how even after getting washed, the sheets still smelled of cigarette smoke. He bet Ian's sheets smelled like fucking flowers.

Or maybe not, Ian did smoke after all. Perhaps his sheets smelled exactly like Mickey's ... and wasn't that a nice thought.

Mickey opened his eyes. Fuck, he really was drunk.

"You coming to the gym?" yelled Mandy through the door, interrupting his alcohol haze with her shrill voice. Was her voice always so annoying or was it just the vodka filter making it so grating?

"Mick?"

The thug tried opening his mouth and feeling downright smug when he was successful, he responded: "Fuck off."

He heard his sister sigh but before he could think of anything else to say, he fell asleep.

The awakening a few hours later was harsh. He hadn't even drank that much but not having eaten at all beforehand made him a complete lightweight. He pulled himself out of bed, thanking all the Gods responsible that he wasn't feeling nauseous, and made his way over to the loo to take a piss.

He stood above the porcelain bowl, watching the stream of urine hitting the sides, when he heard the front door open and close enthusiastically. He must've slept through all of Mandy's gym visit if she was coming home already.

He went to investigate but before he could even leave his room, Mandy pushed him back in.

"You won't believe who I have just met at the gym!" she chirped, her eyes wide in excitement.

"I don't know, Santa Clause?"

Mandy laughed as if it was the wittiest thing she heard all day. "No, you imbecile. Ian! He works as a personal trainer of sorts. He's there every Monday, Tuesday and Friday afternoon, apparently."

Mickey rubbed his hands over his eyes. "He's gay, Mandy."

She sat down on the edge of his bed, still smiling. "I know."

Mickey sat down next to her, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. His sister was apparently in denial. Even he himself had a greater chance of getting laid by Ian than Mandy had.  "You know what gay means, right?"

"Jesus, I know!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms upwards, lost hitting him in the chin, "but if there's anyone who can set him straight, it's me."

"Not gonna happen, Mands." he said quietly.

"You don't know that."

"You're just going to get hurt," he finished, getting up from where he was sitting and making his way to the kitchen. He found his brother sitting there, a bowl of Lucky Charms in front of him. Iggy looked up.

"You look like you just killed someone, Mouse."

The thug flipped him off, taking his own bowl out of the dish rack. He poured some cereal in it and went in search of the milk, when Mandy finally appeared, her good mood gone.

"You're just jealous that I have someone interested in me!"

Mickey had enough. "He's not though! He's never going to be interested in you, Mandy, he's fucking gay."

Iggy looked up from the cereal box children's puzzle he was attempting to solve. "Who are you talking 'bout? That the guy from the party you told me about, Mands?"

Mandy nodded. "Yeah, Ian Gallagher. He's really hot and-"

It was then that Mickey realized something. "Wait, Gallagher? As in Frank Gallagher?"

Mandy was looking confused now. "I guess. Why?"

Mickey huffed out a laugh. "Bound to be fucking retarded," he muttered, finding the milk carton stashed bizarrely in the freezer and pouring some milk into his bowl. Frank Gallagher was the laziest and single most pathetic excuse for a human being that ever set foot into Southside and that's saying something. How someone like him could've spewed out genetic material to create someone like the man he met a few days ago, he had no idea. Ian was responsible, hardworking and determined to make something good of his shit of a life. That was a polar opposite of what Frank was like.

Mandy, however, didn't seem to care about genetics. She shrugged, "I don't care, did you see his biceps?"

Did he see his- "What the fuck, Mandy? I'm not a fucking faggot to watch some dude's arms."

Mandy rolled her eyes. "You know, with how many times a day you say that, I might start to think you actually _are_ gay."

It was all Mickey could do not to react. He really didn't need anyone to know that he was a big old homo. It wasn't that he was scared of the reaction, his siblings would most likely be supportive and anyone who would give him shit would get his ass beaten, he was wary of the consequences. If people knew he was gay, he would lose the one thing that prevented him from actually dating - or at least fucking. People would expect him to act on it and he would no longer be able to justify his inaction.

Truth was, he didn't want to date anyone. Don't get him wrong, he was interested, but the thought of actually being with someone, even just to fuck, was too much for him. Getting close to another human being, telling them personal stuff about himself ... it was completely unacceptable.

Anyone he dated would sooner or later realize what a fuck up he was, what a lost cause his whole life was turning out to be, and leave him. He had no interest in experiencing that, no matter how hot some guys were.

And Ian was hot. A bit of a pretentious douche bag but a really hot one.

He was still thinking about what a coming out would mean to him when he was lying on the couch later that evening, hoping to fall asleep and wake up the next day.

His wish granted, he opened his eyes to a sunny living room, the autumn morning still more or less resembling summer. He glanced at the clock, ten to nine, realizing he woke up a lot earlier than usual.

Deciding to have a bit of a stroll around the neighbourhood, he threw on an old hoodie and forgoing shaving, he was soon out the door. He passed a few groups of kids smoking weed instead of being at school, looked into a few cars to see whether they were worth of breaking into - they weren't - and flipped off two guys who were shouting obscenities at him before he found himself standing in front of the Kash 'n' Grab.

It was a little shithole selling stuff from crisps to condoms and was led by an Indian guy with a weak-looking mouth and his bitch of a wife. Mickey usually stopped by in the evenings to buy a pack of cigarettes, so he was glad to see the shop was opened this early in the morning.

He opened the door, an old-fashioned bell announcing his arrival and went straight for the beer shelf. He was just about to pick up a six-pack of his favourite brand - fuck Mandy and her watered down shit - when a voice sounded from behind him: "Mickey?"

The thug turned around and came face to face with no one else but Ian Gallagher. Well he says 'face to face', truth is he had the redhead's pectorals right in his line of sight.

"Gallagher," he acknowledged the guy.

Ian smiled. "Never seen you here before, did you know I worked here?"

Mickey snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, why would I want to see your ugly mug? I actually come here often, just a bit later on."

Ian seemed undeterred. "Why the change then?"

"I woke up a lot earlier than normal," said Mickey as he took a few bags of crisps to join the beer in his arms, "I'm usually still asleep at this hour."

Ian nodded as if he was honestly interested in what Mickey was saying. "You work night shifts?"

"Nah, man. I don't have a job."

Ian's face darkened  a bit and Mickey couldn't help but feel he just screwed up. "Oh, ok. That's ... uh, that's fine," stuttered out the redhead, studying intently some paper laying on the counter. This was exactly what Mickey knew would happen. Ian was too good for him and the guy realized it even before anything had a chance to happen.

Not that he wanted anything to happen, of course, but this was one of those situations, when Mickey hadn't particularly wanted to be proven right. It would've been nice to at least have a shot.

Ian looked at him. "Will that be all?"

It took him a moment to realize what the redhead was talking about. He looked at the beer and crisps. "Yeah, I guess. Oh, just a pack of cigarettes."

Ian smiled at him again brightly, as if he wasn't all weird and stuttering just a few seconds before. "Anything else?"

There was a certain inflection to his voice that Mickey stopped dead in his tracks. Was the guy flirting with him? He hadn't given him any indication that he was gay, had he? It wasn't possible, Ian couldn't possibly be interested, could he?

Mickey thought it was best to ask outright: "Dude, are you hitting on me?"

The redhead seemed not to notice the threatening tone Mickey's voice suddenly acquired - or if he did, he wasn't the slightest bit threatened - and smirked instead. "I don't know, is it working?"

"Fuck off, I'm not a fag."

"Right." There was so much scepticism in that one word that Mickey could almost taste it.

He had enough. "Look, just ring up the stuff so I can pay or I'm walking out of here and you can feed your kids with your stupid attitude."

Ian laughed. "Yeah, fuck you too. I can't help it if I like you."

"And I can't help it if I'm not gay."

The redhead shook his head but finally rang up Mickey's purchase. "You're so full of shit, Mickey, I saw the way you were looking at me at your house. I was actually a bit surprised it was Mandy trying to get into my pants and not you."

Mickey went frigid. Well, it looked like the cat was really out of the bag. Ian saw him looking, he knew Mickey was gay and that he was interested. He was well and truly fucked.

"I'm not cheap," he said in the end, a weak attempt at holding onto some of his dignity.

Ian seemed happy with the answer though. "That you're not," he said quietly, a small smile on his lips.

Mickey looked him in the eye hesitantly, feeling suddenly very shy. He cleared his throat. "So, uh ..."

"20.18."

Mickey stared. "What?"

"It's 20.18 dollars. For the beer and stuff."

Once again, Mickey felt out of balance. Was that the end of the flirting? Does that mean he didn't pass some sort of test or whatever?

Finally he shrugged, pulled out a twenty and threw it at the counter. "Keep the change," he muttered and was on his way out the door.

Ian grinned. "You are a dollar short, Mickey."

"What-the-fuck-ever," he spat at him, though he could feel a smile tugging at his lips.

"You ever go to the gym?" asked the redhead suddenly, tucking the twenty into the cash register draw.

Mickey snorted. "Nah, man. That's not my thing."

Ian shrugged, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "If you come with Mandy the next time she asks you, I could make it your thing."

Mickey finally let himself smile. "You could try." And with that he finally left the shop. Against all odds, today was going to be a good day.


	4. Money Comes First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a tad longer, I trust no one will mind :D  
> By the way, did I mention there was going to be an excessive amount of expletives in this story? If not, I'm mentioning it now :)

"You coming to the gym, Mick?"

Mickey rolled his eyes at his sister's words, she really never gave up. Which was surprising, to be quite honest, because Mickey never once accepted. He supposed it became some sort of ritual to them by now and without it, neither one of them would feel quite right anymore.

He opened his mouth to shout his refusal back at Mandy, when he remembered Ian's words.

_If you come with Mandy the next time she asks you, I could make it your thing._

Well, he could give it a try, right? It's not like Ian could really do anything in such a public setting, so nothing serious would happen. And if he happened to see Ian in some form-fitting clothes, all sweaty and hot, Mickey couldn't say he'd be bothered by that. Seeing Mandy try and fail to get the guy's attention could be fun as well.

"Fine, I'll go," he finally said through the door, picking up a sparsely-used sports bag and throwing a clean-ish towel inside.

Mandy opened the door, looking bewildered. "What did you just say?"

"That I'll go," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Well fuck me."

"Nah, thanks," Mickey muttered absently, looking for a deodorant. It wouldn't do to come all smelly and disgusting after all. He found the small spray can on the floor next to the dresser and threw it on top of the towel. He turned around to see Mandy still watching him. "What?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, "I just really don't understand you sometimes, Mick."

The older Milkovich scowled at her. "If you don't want me to come, I don't have to. I just thought that since you keep asking me, you wanted me to join you."

Mandy lifted her hands, palms up, and shook her head fondly at her bother. "Of course I want you to come, Mickey. Don't forget a water bottle," she threw over her shoulder as she left his doorway.

Right, you usually drink water at a gym, he realized, his original plan of taking a beer suddenly foiled. Well, fuck it, if he couldn't take a beer, he sure as hell wasn't going to drink plain old water. He wasn't a girl.

He looked around his room, figuring he should probably pack a clean T-shirt as well and when he found it and was finally ready, he went in search of Mandy who was already waiting for him by the front door.

They arrived at the gym not long before four o'clock and paid for an hour pass at the counter, Mickey not wanting to overdo it on his first visit in years, and Mandy happily accommodating him. They made their way into the locker rooms, separating for a few minutes due to different reproductive organs, though Mickey found it hilarious that he as a gay man was welcome in the men's rooms, before they met up again by the running machines.

"We gotta warm up first," ordered Mandy as she shoved him towards one of the unoccupied treadmills. Mickey scoffed but obeyed, acknowledging the fact that Mandy was a lot more experienced at the whole working out thing. He climbed up on the conveyor belt, watching as Mandy set her speed before mimicking her movements and soon he was working up to a slow jog.

The whole time he was running, he was facing the mirrors and hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair somewhere behind him. He didn't and he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, he really wanted to see what Gallagher had up his sleeve.

Ten minutes later, Mandy decided it was time to move on and made her way over to the main workout area. She pushed him towards a peck deck and she herself laid down n the floor next to him, doing some basic stretches.

Mickey shrugged, figuring that if he didn't strain himself too much he could do without the stretching, and sat down at the seat. He started with a light weight, slowly working up a sweat. He was just about to crank it up a bit, when he saw his sister pull off her T-shirt from the corner of his eye, leaving her only in her sports bra. At first he thought, what the fuck? But when he saw a tall redhead make his way over with a lanky guy who must've been a gym virgin in tow, he got it. Mandy was trying to catch Ian's attention.

He almost laughed when Ian did look over at them, his eyes straying over to Mickey rather than Mandy though. The gym trainer gave him a slight smirk before leading his customer over to the leg press. In all honesty, Mickey thought the guy already looked beat but if Ian thought he could take more, who was he to doubt him?

He watched as Ian explained the machine to the first-timer, sitting down himself to demonstrate a few effortless  leg presses before adjusting the weights and letting the guy have his turn.

"What the hell is a wimp like that doing here?" grumbled Mandy who was yet to be noticed by her crush.

Mickey smirked, watching as the guy struggled. "I don't know, maybe he's here to flirt. Just like you," he added with a judgemental eyebrow.

Mandy scoffed, bending over to touch her toes, showing off her butt in the process. Mickey looked at Ian again, catching his eye. The redhead showed him a hand, palm open, mouthing the words 'five minutes' and waited for Mickey to nod before turning his attention back to his client.

Mickey decided he was bored of the peck deck, mainly because the machine was too far away from the redhead, and walked over to the leg extension rig, which was about six feet away from where Ian was standing.

Mandy trailed after him. "Well, this is useless," she grumped.

Mickey turned to her. "What?"

"Ian. He never once even looked at me and I'm practically naked. That dude over there by the bench press has been slobbering over my ass for the past ten minutes and the stupid redhead does nothing."

"Maybe you should finally accept that Ian's gay. He's never gonna look at you like that."

His sister huffed. "As if you could understand, Mick. When was the last time anyone was interested in you? Oh that's right, never."

Mickey bit his lip, raising his eyebrows at Mandy, trying not to feel hurt. She didn't really mean it seriously anyway, she was just pissed. When she threw him an apologetic look  after a full half a minute of sulking, Mickey turned back to Ian. He was currently on a chin up bar, showing the lanky guy the proper way to pull himself up.

The thug licked his lips. Damn, did Ian look good. His tank was riding up as he lifted his arms, showing his toned stomach, his biceps bulging with the strain of the pull up and his long legs tanned and freckled.

Two minutes of a barely suppressed arousal later, Ian finally parted ways with his customer and went over to the Milkovich duo.

"Hi, Mick. Mandy," he greeted them, smiling widely.

"Hi Ian," chirped Mandy, while Mickey just grunted at the redhead.

"So, I see the two of you are warmed up, you need any help?" the redhead asked, raising an eyebrow at Mickey suggestively and if that didn't let Mandy know how fruitless her efforts were, Mickey didn't know what would.

Mandy did seem a bit startled but recovered quickly. "I was wondering if you could show me, show us, some bench exercises. You know, abs, legs and stuff."

Ian smirked. "Sure thing. Come on the two of you," he threw over his shoulder as he led them away to a different corner of the gym. There were a lot less people around, most likely because the machines in this part of the floor were clearly visible from the outside through the big-ass windows. Mickey gritted his teeth but swallowed back the vile comment that rose in his throat. It wasn't Ian's fault he was an insecure little shit and didn't want to be seen by anyone walking by.

Ian sat down at the bench, rising his knees to his chest, feet in the air. "This is the first exercise I will show you," he said, leaning back as he outstretched his legs slowly, "this is gonna help your abs, as well as thighs."

Both he and Mandy enjoyed the view properly while it lasted, before being ushered to the bench themselves, trying to imitate what Ian did. It wasn't as hard as Mickey thought it would be... at first, but after ten or so crunches, he felt his legs giving up.

Just as he was about to overbalance, he felt hands grip his calves, supporting him, and heard a quiet chuckle as Ian laughed at him.

"Careful, Mickey," he teased, running his hands up his legs quickly before letting him go and all of a sudden Mickey was out of breath. What the fuck did Ian think, touching him like that? How was he supposed to hide his erection now?

Luckily for Mickey, Ian turned his attention to Mandy, supporting her legs as well, though he only touched her ankles. Mandy grinned at him though, looking happy as if Ian just promised to finger bang her or something.

Oh, that did it. His arousal was gone as quickly as it appeared. Mickey huffed out a heavy breath, sitting back up on the bench. Ian looked at him. "Ready to try something else?"

The thug just nodded, not trusting his voice to sound as manly as usual with how breathless he was. Ian grinned and hopped up on the bench, bending over to put his hands on the ground, giving Mickey a very nice view in the process.

"These are more or less normal push ups," said Ian as he demonstrated, "but the added elevation of your feet will put more weight on your arms. Come on try it," he finished as he stood up again.

Mickey grinned. Push ups he could do, his arms not having yet lost all the muscle he gained during his stint in juvie. He propped himself up, watching from the corner of his eye as Mandy did the same, and began.

He made five before he felt a large hand push against the back of his thigh, dangerously close to his ass. "Put your ass down, Mickey," said Ian quietly, "as nice as it is, you're not supposed to stick it out."

"Fuck you," he breathed out. Mickey was fairly sure his body was stretched as straight as it could but he still couldn't help but blush at Ian's comment. Hopefully, if anyone noticed, they would think his face was red from the exertion.

He felt the hand slide over his ass, making its way to the small of his back, where Ian pushed down. Mickey puffed out a breath, barely managing not to fall on his face. He saw Ian crouch next to him, still pushing at his back.

"That's it, you're doing good," whispered the fucker in Mickey's ear before rising again and quickly making his way over to Mandy. Honestly, what a fucker.

It was about fifteen minutes later, Ian managing to find a way to touch him during every single exercise he showed them, that Mandy looked at the clock and smiled sadly. "Time's up, we only have an hour's pass. We gotta go."

Mickey watched as Ian nodded and clapped them both on the backs. "Well, you did really good. I hope to see you here again," he added with a look at Mickey. Mandy had to be fucking blind not to notice anything.

Just as they were about to leave, Ian grabbed his upper arm, tugging him closer. "I finish here at seven, you want to meet up later?"

Deciding to just go for it, Mickey surprised himself by answering: "Sure, the bistro next to the MCLaren's good?"

Ian smiled. "That's perfect. See you at half seven?"

"Sure."

The walk back home with Mandy chattering about Ian into his right ear passed quickly and soon enough, Mickey was alone, sitting on his bed and panicking. Why did he agree to go? It was bound to be a disaster. He and Ian didn't even really know each other, what did they have to talk about? Their fucked up families?

Actually, that might be a thing they both knew a lot about. Mickey snorted. Yeah right, bonding over their dysfunctional families was a sure fire way to get into Ian's pants. And that was all he wanted, it wasn't like he had a crush on the guy, he wasn't Mandy, but he was intrigued and he was ready to finally fuck someone. Or get fucked, whatever.

Mickey stretched out on his back, enjoying the tired feeling in his arms and legs. He had completely forgot what his muscles felt like after a good workout. It was a pleasant ache settled deep into the tissue, reminding him of a job well done. He groaned contentedly. Maybe he should take Ian up on the offer and actually visit the gym from time to time.

He spent the next hour just laying on his bed, smoking and thinking about the redhead and before he realized, he had to go if he wanted to be on time. And surprisingly enough, he did want to.

He arrived late anyway but only by a few minutes and Ian didn't look like he had been waiting long, so he didn't feel bad about it. They both ordered, beef barbecue burgers with a side of chips, and sat down in a corner of the diner.

"So," Mickey started, not knowing what to say.

Ian raised one eyebrow, grinning. "So?"

That little shit. "So, you work at the store, you train at the gym... what are you, an energizer bunny?"

That shocked an honest laugh out of Ian. "No, not really. I am always tired at the end of the day, but I try. I wok at the Kash 'n' Grab in the mornings, picking up shifts at the gym in the afternoon. Wednesdays and Thursdays I help at the ROTC centre and at the weekends I mow lawns and stuff."

Mickey stared. Way to make me feel useless, Gallagher, he thought. "When do you go to school?" he asked instead, remembering Ian mentioning his grades falling.

Ian shrugged. "I don't. I read up on the material at the store and then I just ask around for when the tests are and I come in to write them before I fuck off back to my job. The teachers hate it but there's not much they can do."

"Shit."

"Yeah. What about you? Why aren't you at school?"

Mickey stuffed a chip in his mouth to avoid answering right away. "I'm not cut out for that shit, I always just ended up smoking weed in the bathrooms and getting expelled for punching some kid in the face."

Ian chuckled. "I can imagine you doing that."

"You don't look like a pussy yourself," commented Mickey before he could stop himself.

"Are you flirting with me, Mickey Milkovich?"

The thug shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "I don't know. Is it working?"

Ian got a slightly heated look in his eyes. "Yes," he rasped at him before taking a drink of his coke, "it is."

Mickey grinned and bit a mouthful of his burger. "So, your siblings?"

Ian's smile dimmed a bit and Mickey couldn't help but feel he screwed up. He had thought Ian would like to talk about the kids since he seemed to love them but maybe he was wrong.

"Debbie, Carl and Liam. They're fourteen, thirteen and five," he paused, "they're brilliant. Debbie is really creative, you know, she's always drawing or sewing stuff. And Carl ... Carl is a bit of a weirdo but he has a heart of gold- don't laugh, those are his History teacher's words. And Liam, he's not much of anything yet, I don't really have the time to teach him anything, you know?"

Mickey huffed, Ian looked sad again. What the fuck was his problem? Was Mickey really that bad of a company? He watched as Ian yawned.

"I'm boring you, Firecrotch?"

Ian startled at the nickname, smiling softly. "I'm sorry, Mickey. There's just a lot on my mind and I'm tired."

Mickey rolled his eyes internally, if Ian didn't want to spend time with him, he didn't have to make up bullshit excuses. The thug had known that there was a chance that once they really talk to each other, Ian would realize he wasn't really interested in Mickey after all. "Look, if you wanna leave, I'm not holding you here," he said after a slight pause.

Ian looked up from his food, a startled expression on his face. "I don't want to leave. Jesus, Mickey, I just have stuff to think about."

"Stuff like what?"

Mickey could see Ian slump into his set resignedly. "I'm having a tough time paying the fucking bills this month, ok? The part time job at ROTC is not paying as much as it used to and people need their lawns mown less and less the further into autumn we get. I..." he sighed, "I'm worried there won't be much left for food."

Mickey frowned at Ian. "What about your parents? Can't they help?"

Ian snorted. "I have to fucking hide the money when Frank shows his ugly mug, I doubt he has anything. And Monica is fuck knows where, she doesn't care."

Mickey pressed his lips into a thin line. He hated this. He hated how the normally cheerful person Ian was could be so easily put down. Why the fuck did Frank and Monica pop out four kids if they weren't going to take care of them? Leaving Ian to clean up their mess, not bothering to even find out whether their brats were alive.

"Stupid motherfuckers," breathed Mickey, "I'd never have four kids if I didn't have the money for it.

Ian laughed. "Yeah, let alone six of them."

Mickey raised his eyebrows. This was news to him.

The redhead continued: "I have an older sister and an older brother but they can't help," he paused to take a sip of his drink, leaning forward on his elbows, leaning forward afterwards, "Fiona used to take care of all of us but she, uh, she fell ill and had to move. And Lip is in college. He says that when he finishes he'll get some kick-ass job and earn a lot of money to help us, until then though, he doesn't have time to work."

"Bullshit."

Ian laughed, albeit a bit hesitantly. "It's all right, Mickey, I'm fine. We're fine. Let's talk about something else. I didn't invite you here for a pity party."

"You're tired man," said Mickey, wiping his mouth on a napkin before getting up, "come on. I'll walk you home and we'll meet up when you're not so beat."

Ian eyed him in suspicion. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Mikey did as he promised, walking the redhead home, before turning right back around. He didn't go home, he still had some business to take care of.

Two hours later, when it was already dark outside, Mickey returned. He walked past the Gallagher's house at least four times before he finally gathered enough courage to knock on the door. He held his breath, hoping neither one of Ian's siblings was going to answer, and let it out when he saw Ian open the door.

The redhead looked taken aback. "Mickey? What are you doing here? Something wrong?"

Mickey didn't say anything, pulling out his evening work's result out of his pocket, offering it to the other man. Ian stared at the wad of cash, eyes suddenly shining. "How did you-?"

He shrugged. "Stole it."

Ian bit his lip as he uncertainly took the cash from Mickey's hands. It must've gone against every fibre of his being but he didn't berate Mickey for stealing, pocketing the money instead. "I- thank you."

Mickey shifted uncomfortably, opening his mouth to disregard the redhead's thanks but before he could make a sound, there was a pair of dry lips pressed against his and an insistent tongue probing its way inside.

Ian was kissing him. Full on, on the mouth, kissing him. Right there in the doorway, his hands at Mickey's sides, his tongue in his mouth. And it was really fucking good, Mickey thought as he felt himself being tugged closer to the taller man's chest. If this was his reward for strolling around the neighbourhood and committing some simple B and E, he decided being a fucked up criminal couldn't be such a bad thing after all.

He wrapped his arms around Ian's shoulders to steady himself and suppressed a moan that was threatening to make its way out of his throat. It wouldn't do to show the guy how much he was really enjoying himself, right? It was enough he suddenly grew a vagina and decided to help Ian with his bills, he didn't have to stroke his ego on the top of it.

Mickey moaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments will be appreciated and rewarded by an imaginary hug, if you don't like physical contact, I will give you a not-hug :)


	5. Like A Virgin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the slight delay, I'm afraid I don't have a good excuse, I was busy reading gay fanfiction :D

Mickey didn't really know what to think. He reckoned he and Ian were dating now, at least that's what it felt like when they parted ways after that spectacular kiss the other day, but since Mickey had no experience with relationships, he wasn't sure. It's not like Ian spelled it out or explained anything.

It would be sort of nice to have someone to just himself. Not that Ian would be only his, obviously he had his siblings and stupid amount of jobs and he's bound to have some friends, but he would be his to kiss and do stuff with. God, he was turning into a girl, he could practically feel his vagina growing.

Mickey stared at his phone, eyes fixed on Ian's name glaring at him from the screen. Maybe he should call or text him to see if Ian wanted to go out or something. Or maybe not, he didn't want to look desperate.

It was just then that his phone blared up and for one insane second, Mickey thought it was Ian calling him, then he realized that the caller ID read _Unknown number_ , so it couldn't possibly be the redhead.

"What?" he spat out when he answered the call.

There was a familiar voice on the other end. "Hey man, how are you?"

"Who's this?"

"Come on, Mickey, you don't remember me? Your favourite dealer?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Not in the business anymore, Gino."

The guy laughed. "I know bambino, I know. I'm in a bit of a tight spot right now though and I could really use your help. In my defence, I tried your papa first but they told me he was in the can."

"He is," snapped Mickey, "and I don't plan to visit him any time soon. You'll have to find someone else."

"There's a good money for you in it," said Gino suggestively and Mickey found himself suddenly indecisive. He could really use some quick cash right now, especially with Ian being broke at the moment. Mickey thought back to how grateful the redhead was when he brought him the wad of money. How startled he looked and how good that kiss felt. Maybe it would be worth it?

"Look Gino," Mickey started carefully, "let me think about it and I'll get back to you, ok?"

The drug dealer sighed. "Midnight, bambino, just because I have a hard spot for you. I'm not waiting any longer though."

Mickey snorted. A hard spot, indeed. Gino was as gay as they came but no one ever dared to even give him an evil look because the dude had some serious connection with the New York Italians. He listened to the click at the other end of the line that signalled the dealer hug up and pushed his own end call button in frustration. Fucking modern-ass phones, sometimes he really missed snapping a phone shut. What was he going to do? On one hand, Ian would surely hate him getting involved in drug dealing again, then again if he gave him some more money, maybe Ian would kiss him again and that would be nice. And who was Ian to frown upon what he did anyway, not like he was his boyfriend-

Fuck. Well, he never said he was. Mickey didn't know what to expect, he never flirted with anyone like he did with Ian and he was certainly never kissed like that either. He received a few kisses from girls at his school who hoped he'd give them a discount on some weed. He never did and so over time they stopped slobbering all over him. Mickey couldn't even bring himself to pretend he cared and he was only fourteen at the time. He had no idea he might swing the other way at that time.

He looked at the phone in his hand again. It wouldn't hurt to find out if Ian had some free time today, right? He opened a new text message and quickly typed out:

_hey man you free tnght?_

He squinted at the screen and deeming the text inadequate in grammar, he erased the whole thing and wrote a new message.

_Hi, are you free tonight?_

He nodded in satisfaction and hit send before he could change his mind. If Gallagher didn't like his ext, he could jump off of a roof. Not a too high roof though, wouldn't want him to actually kill himself.

Mickey rolled his eyes at his thoughts and decided to take a shower in case Ian answered affirmatively and wanted to meet right away. It was already half eight anyway and if they wanted to meet today, they should probably go right away.

He was weirdly wired by the time he stepped out of the shower. He managed not to jerk off thinking about the redhead but the less he tried to think about him, the more he was anxious about whether he answered his text. What would it mean if he didn't? Would that mean they weren't dating? Wasn't there some fucking code of behaviour while messaging crushes?

He took a deep breath and looked at his phone, still clad in a towel. There was a new text waiting for him.

_sure. meet U at yur house in 15?_

Mickey rolled his eyes. Why had he been freaking about proper grammar again? Ian's message could've just as well been written by a horse-

Wait. The text came almost ten minutes ago, Mickey must've been really distracted to take so long in the shower, he now had just about under five minutes to get dressed and his hair styled. Well, fuck it, Ian would have to wait.

Ian ended up not waiting at all since he was almost three minutes late and knocked on the door just as Mickey was pulling on some shoes.

The redhead smiled at him when he opened the door. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," mumbled Mickey, not really looking at Ian, so he completely missed it when the man bowed down to kiss him. He started at the feel of lips pressing at his own but recovered quickly enough to actually return the kiss.

Ian laughed at him anyway. "Didn't expect it, did you?"

Mickey shrugged, acting nonchalant. "Not out here in public, man."

Ian looked around the empty street pointedly. "No one around, Mickey."

The thug nodded distractedly, not bothering to lock the door behind himself. If anyone was stupid enough to rob a Milkovich, he could get in through the back door anyway since the lock there was broken. Had been for the past two years.

"So where are we going?" asked Ian, hands in pockets, bouncing on his toes in excitement. That made Mickey feel a lot better about himself, so he smirked at the redhead and not bothering to answer, he started walking in the direction of the river. He could always figure out their destination later.

Ian didn't ask any questions, instead following behind Mickey like an obedient puppy. They had been walking in silence for a few minutes, an uncomfortable feeling settling between them,  when Mickey suddenly blurted out: "So, we're like dating or something?"

The fucker laughed at him. "You want to?"

Mickey scowled. "You're not the one asking questions, joker," he growled

"All right, Mickey, calm down," said Ian with a placating gesture, "I would like us to be dating, yes. You?"

Mikey hesitated. Did he want to date him? He sure as hell wanted Ian to be his boyfriend, he managed to admit that to himself, but did he want to be _Ian's_ boyfriend? He knew rationally, of course, that one didn't go without the other but he felt it was a valid concern.

"Mickey?" Ian sounded a bit uncertain himself, his eyes large as he looked at him, and just like that Mickey knew the answer.

"Yeah, I'd like that too."

Ian rewarded him with a bright smile that would've probably lit the whole street were the streetlamps to all just go out at once. "Good."

They walked in silence again, but this time it wasn't unpleasant. The quiet was charged with a positive energy and when the men's eyes met, it burst. They both started laughing out of the blue, for no reason at all other than being hyped up by each other's presence.

Mickey didn't remember when was the last time he laughed, let alone this loudly and for no apparent reason. It was like Ian managed to bring all the good and happy out of him without even trying and Mickey felt like he could actually amount to something for once. The feeling was fleeting, being based on a quick rush of emotion, but it had been there and the thug enjoyed it while it lasted. And if Ian managed to turn him into a girl by the end of the night? Fuck it.

They turned a corner, still chuckling quietly as they neared the river, and came upon a common-in-Southside but still disturbing sight. A half circle of fourteen-year-olds beating on a chubby Indian girl down under a close by bridge. Ian tensed up immediately but Mickey held him back, he didn't want his boyfriend of few minutes to get into a fight and mess up his stupid little pretty face. Ian gave him a look, that obnoxious look of exasperation that do-gooders usually give people they feel are beneath them, and Mickey was surprised to realize, he didn't actually feel too annoyed by it. He pulled out his gun-shaped taser, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Ian, and turned to the bullies.

"Hey fuckers!" he yelled at the group, waving his stun gun at them.

The kids - not being able to tell the difference in between a taser and a real gun - immediately dispersed, leaving a bruised and bleeding girl laying on the ground. Feeling like he had done his bit, Mickey started walking away, only to come to a halt when he noticed Ian wasn't with him.

And fuck him if the redhead wasn't crouching next to the bullied victim, helping her stand up. The thug rolled his eyes but went over to them to see if he could help as well. Fucking Gallagher making him soft.

It took them almost quarter of an hour walking the snivelling girl back home and when they saw her ring the doorbell and the door opened, they quickly escaped in case some grateful parent decided to thank them, Mickey did still have some of his pride after all.

"You do that often?" asked Mickey when they were back on their track, heading to the river.

"Do what?"

"Save people like you're Batman or something. These things just happen and you can't help everyone you know?"

Ian sighed. "I know. But if I can help just one person, that's still one less victim in the world."

"Bullshit," snorted Mickey, "they'll corner her again and beat the shit out of her on some other night. You can't always be there to help, Gallagher."

The good Samaritan shrugged. "I can try."

"You're naive," said Mickey, intending for it to sound biting but somehow it still came out sounding fond."

Ian however turned serious eyes to him. "I know I am."

Mickey stopped walking, grabbing Ian by the arm. "You can count on me giving you a wakeup call whenever you need, Firecrotch."

Ian looked him straight in the eye, biting a lip. "Your house is empty right?"

Mickey shrugged. "Yeah, why?"

Ian stepped closer, eyes intent, and leaned in to speak directly into Mickey's ear: "Cause I really want to fuck you right now."

The thug's breath hitched. Fuck that escalated quickly. Ian wanted to fuck? Right now? It wasn't like Mickey wasn't interested but given that he never slept with anyone, he was a bit hesitant. He knew the theory, having watched a lot of porn on his laptop, but with his bed partners being blue and made of silicone, he had no real experience.

Still, all that didn't stop him from breathing out a hopefully-not-too-needy sounding 'yes' as he pressed himself against Ian's chest.

The walk to the Milkovich house was brisk and heavily charged with sexual tension. Ian also didn't help matters by cupping Mickey arse ever few metres and whispering lewd words into his hair in a raspy voice.

Gallagher was certainly not making him soft now.

They just about fell through the doorway when they arrived at the house, able to keep upright only thanks to Ian's ridiculous balance. Their toed off shoes ended up somewhere in the living room as they made their way to Mickey's room, Ian's jumper landing in a puddle of beer in the hallway, well hopefully it was beer.

As the door to Mickey's bedroom shut behind them, Ian shoved the smaller man against it, latching onto his neck as he struggled with the zip on Mickey's jacket.

"Come on, get it off."

Mickey grunted, pulling his arms out of the sleeves before the front was even fully unzipped, reaching for Ian's T-shirt as soon as his hand were free. He tugged it off, taking a moment to admire the toned chest and strong arms. Ian was tanned after the warm summer and his freckles stood out against the otherwise clear skin. Mickey's brain decided it would be good to find out what the redhead's collarbone tasted like and he leaned it to bit slightly against it, licking the mark afterwards to soothe it.

Ian gave him a hot look, a breathless sound making its way out of his throat. He unbuttoned Mickey's trousers, letting the baggy material fall to the floor, before hooking his fingers at the waistband of the thug's pants.

Mickey nodded in encouragement and Ian pulled, easing the material carefully over Mickey's erection.

"Get on the bed," ordered Ian as soon as the dark haired man was divested of all clothing, including socks, and Mickey couldn't help but obey. He sat down at the edge of the mattress, his eyes hungry on his boyfriend, who was taking off the rest of his own clothes.

And just when Mickey thought Ian couldn't possibly get any hotter - his chest, his arms, his long legs - he pulled off his own pants and Mickey was left staring at a porn star cock, thick and at least eight inches long.

"Fuck," he let out involuntarily. That was certainly a tad larger than his blue friend that rested at the bottom of his winter socks draw.

Ian grinned at him, coming closer. "Don't worry, Mick," he said as he sank to his knees in front of him, "it'll be fine."

Mickey scoffed but before he could say anything in reply a warm mouth enveloped the tip of his own cock and all thoughts of anything else left him. Ian mouthed at his cock lightly, not really creating enough suction to get him off like that but it was enough to keep him interested. More than interested, going by the way Mickey had to swallow back some moans.

The agile tongue then made its way down his length, tracing the veins on the underside, before going back to dip lightly into his slit. This time Mickey couldn't hold back the sound clawing its way out of his mouth.

"Fuck." Yes, his vocabulary was very limited at the moment, who the fuck cares?

After a few minutes of teasing, Ian began sucking him in earnest, enveloping him with his mouth and going as far as he could before pulling back and then repeating the movement. Mickey was almost hypnotized by the bobbing of his boyfriend's head when Ian suddenly went further than before and deep throated Mickey's cock, his throat convulsing around the tip.

It was all Mickey could do not to come right there and then.

"Fuck, Ian. Unless you want this to-" he swallowed heavily, "uh, end too soon, you better back off."

Ian, who pulled off as soon as Mickey started speaking, gave him a smug grin before standing up. "On all fours then," he told him as he walked over to his trousers, pulling a small satchel of lube and a condom out of the pocket.

Mickey did as he was told, his sweaty hands slipping on the duvet. This was it. This was really going to happen. He watched as Ian made his way back over to him, his dick swinging heavily as he walked. Mickey was wrong, he thought, he had to be at least nine inches.

Ian kneeled behind the thug, tugging his hips closer, biting his ass cheek lightly.

"Ready?" he asked Mickey teasingly, as if he knew how that the shorter man was so ready he didn't burst.

Mickey dropped his head, resting his forehead on his pillow, his arms gripping the headboard as he felt Ian circle a lube covered finger around his hole.

He tensed up a bit as the finger dipped inside and internally scolded himself. He knew he should relax unless he wanted it to hurt but he couldn't seem to help himself.

Ian however seemed to be used to guys tensing up, had to be with what he had in his pants, for he lightly tickled Mickey's side just as he was about to add a second finger and Mickey involuntarily relaxed his asshole.

Well, that was a neat trick, he thought. And then he didn't think at all as Ian's fingers found his prostate. An honest to God shiver ran down his back and a wonderful heat pooled in his stomach. He never even noticed the third and fourth finger entering and opening him up, coming to his senses only when they pulled out.

Mickey let out a whine, no longer caring about the sounds he made, and waited for the feel of Ian's tip pressing against his hole. He must've tensed up again because what he got wasn't his boyfriend's cock, but something much smaller and softer and wetter and-

Fucking hell that was Ian's tongue. The heat in his stomach increased twofold, beads of sweat rolling down his neck and into his hair. This was certainly a new feeling and Mickey had a fleeting thought about how he pitied everyone who never felt Ian Gallagher rim them.

When a few minutes later Ian rested his dick against Mickey's hole, his body no longer had it in it to tense up. Mickey groaned loudly as Ian breached him.

"Breathe Mick," said Ian, he himself sounding breathless. He had to be holding onto the last scraps of his patience, going without any sort of stimuli for so long.

Ian didn't stop to let him adjust until he was all the way in, his thighs resting against Mickey's, his hips fit snugly against his ass cheeks. Mickey felt his ass pulsing around his boyfriend's length.

"Fuck."

Ian laughed, the vibration going all the way to his cock, making Mickey swear louder. He turned his head to look at Ian over his shoulder.

"Move, Ian."

And Ian did, not bothering to start slow - understandable after that impressible show of restraint - instead pulling out his cock almost all the way out before ramming it back in, knocking the breath out of Mickey.

It was a wild ride, Ian pumping his hips fast and hard, Mickey meeting his thrusts one for one. It didn't take long for the thug to feel a familiar tingling sensation spread up from his toes all the way to his belly and it took just one pump of Ian's hand over his dick for Mickey to come.

He painted the duvet with three or four large spurts of come, his ass squeezing around Ian. Two thrusts later, the redhead came as well, grunting loudly, his arms that came to rest either side of Mickey's hips shaking with exertion.

"Fuck," breathed Ian as he dipped his head to lick at Mickey's spine. They stayed like that for a few moments before Ian pulled out slowly, making Mickey hiss. The thug knew he would have trouble sitting comfortably the next day but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He felt Ian settling behind him after a minute, arm around his waist, and he sighed contentedly. He waited for the redhead's breathing to even out, before turning around to watch him. The moonlight coming in through the window was making his ridiculous hair shine, his chest was softly rising and falling and he had a content smile on his lips, his face not yet completely slack with sleep. He was beautiful, Mickey thought before scoffing. Here he goes, Gallagher making him soft again.

Mickey turned away from him with a sigh and blindly reached for his phone. He unlocked it, squinting at the screen, the glaring light hurting his eyes, and shot off a quick text:

_count me out gino_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome as well as any thoughts on the sex part, I'm not really used to writing smut, so hopefully it was readable :)


	6. Shoot Your Troubles Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry about the delay, though I actually have several excuses this time :) I had two exams last week (that I had totally forgot about) and a palaeontology excursion which left me completely knackered. I also had trouble writing the opening scene for this chapter, which set me back a day or two as well. Hopefully, I'll be better next time :)

"Is that a fucking hickey?"

Mickey looked up from his phone, scowling at his sister. "What?"

Mandy leaned closer to him, tugging at Mickey's loose collar. "You have a huge ass hickey on your neck, Mick. You hooking up with Angie again?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. Angie Zago was a local girl, who was always willing to fuck in exchange for a few joints and be discreet about whatever happened or didn't happen inside her house. Mickey did use to come to her from time to time to diminish the rumours about his supposed virginity.

"Fuck off," he spat, tapping on his phone quickly to hide the picture of Ian he had been looking at. He took it the day before, secretly when Ian had been sleeping the morning after their first time and Mickey told himself that if no one knew about the picture, it didn't really exist.

Frustratingly enough, Mandy noticed his hectic movements and snatched the device out of his hands. "What are you looking at? You writing your girl?"

Mickey shot up to his feet, trying to get his mobile back before Mandy could see anything incriminating. "Give it back, bitch!" he called after her as she ran into their kitchen, "do I go through your fucking phone?"

His sister ignored him, swiping her manicured fingers over the screen.

Mickey had just made another grab for his phone, when Mandy gasped. Fuck.

Mandy turned the screen towards Mickey. "Is this Ian? Sleeping? In your fucking bed?"

"What? No."

Mandy narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't lie to me, Mikhail, I'm warning you."

Mickey gulped. Whenever Mandy used his full name, she was seriously pissed and going by the glint in her eye, she felt like murdering someone, preferably Mickey. "I'm not lying," he told her, his voice turning into a squeak somewhere in the middle.

Mandy laughed bitterly. "You fucked him," she dead-panned.

"Fuck no!"

"You fucked him. You knew I liked him and you had to go and sleep with him," she took a deep breath, "You feel good about yourself now? Finally got what you always wanted, one upping me? Finally feeling you've accomplished something?"

Mickey sighed. His little sister sounded really hurt. "It's not like that, Mands."

"Oh really?" Mandy's question was accompanied by a watery laugh.

Mickey braced himself. "We're dating."

Mandy's eyes went as wide as saucers at first, a complete disbelief written all over her pretty face, before her lips pressed into a thin line and she strode away without another word. Mickey heard a furious stomping on the staircase before a door slammed and the house went completely quiet for a moment.

_You call us weirdos, you call us crazy_

_Say we're evil, say we're lazy..._

Mickey rolled his eyes at the loud music his sister started blasting in her room. Fucking punk shit or something. He swiped his phone from the kitchen table, where Mandy had dropped it, threw on a hoodie and just as the singer started yelling 'fuck you!', Mickey left.

It was Mandy's problem if she was pissed, he told himself, he wasn't disappointed that she reacted the way she reacted to his coming out. Though you probably shouldn't call it that, not like he came out voluntarily ... it was more like he was dragged out of the closet kicking and screaming.

Mickey huffed loudly, deciding to go to the abandoned building he used as his personal shooting range as he turned a corner. He desperately needed a few hours of mindless shooting into a cardboard person.

He climbed up the rickety stairs, holding onto the railing, and when he finally reached the top floor, he looked around. The room didn't seem to be disrupted, the bullet shells on the floor still scattered in the seemingly random pattern that Mickey designed. He went over to a hole in the wall, where he knew his old Magnum revolver was hiding.

He pulled it out, sitting down on the floor to properly clean it. He snickered as he remembered his distant cousin once telling him that the best way to clean one's gun was to shoot it. At the time Mickey thought it was a good advice, but then again he had been seven and didn't have a clue about guns, now he knew better. Especially since said cousin ended up with half of his hand blown off.

When he was satisfied his .44 was clean enough, he loaded it, got up and walked over to the target, studying the holes he had made during his previous visits. Most of them were in the head and crotch area, whatever that said about him.

Mickey aimed at the chest this time, emptying all six rounds into a four inch diameter. Good enough for the distance he was shooting from, he thought as he went to load his gun again. It was a pain in the ass to use a six-round-revolver but Mickey liked the feel of it in his hand and the way the wooden handle smelled.

He had to load his gun eight more times before he felt better, only cursing his damned sister every ten minutes or so. A great accomplishment from his original ten seconds.

"Fucking Mandy," he muttered as he wrapped his Magnum in a leather rug and put it back in its hiding place. Great, what was he going to do now? He couldn't go home until his sister had at least twelve hours of moody music therapy behind her.

Maybe he could go and see Ian. He might even know what to do. He was out to his family, he had mentioned, and there must've been someone who didn't take the news well.

Mickey nodded to himself as he headed in the direction of the Gallagher's house.

He knocked, waiting impatiently for Ian to answer, so he could unload every bullshit thing that was running through his head on his boyfriend. When the door opened though, he lost his steam. Instead of a redheaded stud, he was greeted by a short scrawny kid with shaggy brown hair.

Mickey shoved his hands in his pockets, bowing his head uncertainly. He knew the kid who opened the door was Carl, Ian talked about the kids all the fucking time, but he had never met anyone from Ian's family and he suddenly didn't know what to do.

"Ehm... Ian in?"

The boy looked him up and down, assessing him carefully. "He owe you money?"

"Nah," grinned Mickey, "I'm a... friend."

Carl shrugged, opening the door wider to let Mickey in. "He's not in anyway."

Mickey stopped in his tracks. His stupid fucking brain. Of course Ian wasn't at home, he was at work like every single day. Wait-

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" he asked as he followed the kid into the living room.

Carl smirked. "History test today, lost my notes."

"So?"

"Can't write the test."

"Fucking cheat or something."

Carl just shrugged again. Mickey raised his eyebrows but decided not to comment further. He wasn't the kids mum. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, leased when he found some good beer inside. He grabbed a bottle and joined the little nuisance in front of the TV.

He noticed Carl watching his knuckle tattoos with wide eyes. "What?"

"Do you deal drugs?"

Mickey stared at him. The fuck?

But before he could answer, Carl continued: "Have you ever killed anyone?"

And damn him if the kid didn't look way to interested in the possibility. There was a little thug in the making right under Ian's nose and Mickey couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Nah, I haven't killed anyone. Doesn't mean I wouldn't be able to."

Mickey actually didn't know that at all. He was fairly confident he would be able to kill someone but since he was never even close to it, he couldn't possibly know for sure. It was entirely possible he would just shit himself if he was ever to try. Terry had killed people before and talked about it in the evenings sometime when he had too much to drink. He used to describe it in such a morbid detail that fourteen-year-old Mickey had to excuse himself under the pretence of needing to piss, so he could walk off the nausea.

"You smell like fireworks," said Carl suddenly, breaking Mickey out of his reminiscence.

"It's not fireworks, it's gunpowder, you noob."

The kid looked even more excited now. "Gunpowder? You have a gun?"

Mickey only raised his eyebrows. He didn't answer stupid questions.

Carl looked undeterred. "Ian has a gun somewhere but he doesn't want me to touch it. Like not even when it's not loaded. He hid it somewhere and I still haven't found it, which is weird because I find everything."

Mickey bit his lip. He had a feeling Ian was going to kill him for his next words but he just couldn't help himself. Carl was probably a bit morally challenged, Ian's words not Mickey's, but he was curious and street smart. Mickey sighed. "I could take you shooting sometime, if you want."

Carl jumped up from his seat. "You kidding? I wanna go right now."

"You sure? Don't you have to pick up Liam or something?" Mickey had a feeling Ian told him something like that.

The kid shook his head though. "No, it's Debbie's turn today."

Mickey shrugged. It was the little wanker's funeral if he was wrong, not his. "Let's go then."

And so for a second time that day Mickey found himself cleaning his .44, this time more out of demonstration than any real need.

"You gotta clean it every time you wanna go around using it, zrozumiv?"

Carl frowned. "What if you need it for an emergency?"

"Then you have to clean it every day just in case. No good getting your hand blown off."

The kid smirked. "Cool. You know someone like that?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

Mickey then proceeded to show Carl the proper stance, feet at shoulder's width, arms bent slightly, finger on the trigger guard rather than the trigger itself.

"But why?"

You don't wanna pull it accidentally do you?"

Carl shrugged, tilting the gun towards Mickey slightly. The thug was quick to grab his hand. "Yeah, no. Don't do that. You point that thing at me again and I'll punch you in the gut. Ian or no Ian, ok?"

The kid nodded his head seriously. "Yeah, ok. Sorry."

Mickey then let Carl shoot three rounds in quick succession and was pleasantly surprised when Carl managed to hit the target every single time despite the way his arms jumped up and down with every shot. He raised his eyebrows.

Carl grinned. "Just because I never shot a real gun doesn't mean I can't aim. I used to have an airsoft rifle. Though it didn't have such a kick to it."

Mickey snickered. "Yeah, it wouldn't. Ready for the next three?"

The kid licked his lips. "Yeah, can I hold the gun sideways?

"No fucking way."

"But why? Isn't that the way thugs do it?"

Mickey looked at him expressionlessly. "I don't know, is it?"

Carl looked uncertain. "It was in the telly."

"You don't ever shoot a gun sideways," Mickey said with a sigh, "you can't aim properly that way and you have a greater chance of shooting your own foot than actually kitting the target."

Ok, so he was exaggerating a bit but if that was what it took for the kid not to shoot a fucking _revolver_ sideways, then so be it.

Carl did look properly chastised as he aimed the Magnum just like Mickey taught him. He checked with the older man just to be sure and when he gave him a nod of satisfaction, Carl fired the remaining three shots.

"This is so cool," he sighed happily as he lowered the gun.

Mickey smirked. "Yeah, just don't come here alone, ok? Ian would have my head if you blew a hole in your head."

Carl scoffed. "I wouldn't do that."

"It's not up for a discussion, kid. You're not stepping a foot here without either me or Ian."

Carl rolled his eyes. "You sound like Ian."

Mickey shrugged.

"What's the deal with you and Ian anyway?" He sounded suspicious.

Mickey's heart skipped a beat, like literally skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't bring me here if you didn't want me to like you. You dating Ian?"

Fuck. 

Fucking fuck.

Carl must've seen something in his face because he immediately assured him: "It's ok if you are. Just, you know, don't take him away or something."

Mickey swallowed heavily. The kid didn't have a problem with him being gay, he was worried Ian was gonna leave them. Like fucking Fiona. And Lip. "I won't," he croaked out.

It was at that moment that Mickey realized what was nagging him about his fight with Mandy that morning. She hadn't been pissed about Mickey being gay, she had been angry about him sleeping with Ian, the guy she was crushing on.

In fact, she didn't even mention the fact that Mickey slept with a guy. Hell, that he was dating a guy. Maybe she wasn't bothered by him being gay? Maybe, just maybe, she was all right with that and was pissed just about the fact it was Ian?

Yeah right, and pigs will fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Mandy was playing is called 'Fuck you' by Subhumans.


	7. Gotta be Eighteen

Mickey stepped out of the shower, drying himself off with a threadbare towel. He and Ian had just finished a round of sex, making use of the empty Milkovich house, when Mickey ran his hand through his hair, accidentally spreading his own come over his forehead. Ian had laughed at him, so Mickey flipped him off and didn't invite him into the shower.

Now he pulled on his pants and stepped back into his room. Ian was sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, clutching a notebook in his hands. He had a soft look in his eyes that made Mickey immediately suspicious.

"Watcha got there, Firecrotch?"

Ian looked up at him, smiling. "Did you draw all this?" he asked quietly, flipping through the notebook. And just like that Mickey realized what Ian had found. It was Mickey's old sketchbook, which he used to draw in all the time but when his father almost caught him at it once, he dumped it under his bed and forgot all about it.

"Give that back, Gallagher," he sneered, embarrassed, outstretching his hand.

Ian shook his head, still speaking softly: "These are amazing, Mick, I didn't know you could draw."

"That's because I can't, fuckhead."

Mickey felt blood pooling in his cheeks at the thought of Ian seeing some of the sketches. He had started off with simple pictures of cars and trains when he was about twelve or thirteen moving onto pirates, coppers and firemen when he turned fifteen. Right before he chucked the notebook at sixteen, the men in his pictures became hotter and less dressed, which was the main reason Mickey had acted like a pussy when he thought his father might find out about it.

Ian patted the space next to him, wordlessly asking Mickey to sit down. "Mickey, these pictures are amazing. I have honestly never met a person who could do anything close to this," he said, pointing at a sketch of a half dressed fireman. Mickey had apparently concentrated mainly on the guy's abs, contouring the muscles thoroughly. Fucking gay even back then, he thought.

"Fuck off," was what he said.

Ian looked at him speculatively, eyes scanning his face. He must've seen something discouraging there, because the next thing he did was closing the sketchbook with a sigh.

"All right, Mick. We won't talk about it."

The problem was Mickey suddenly wanted to fucking talk about it. He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Not like it's worth anything anyway."

He got two raised eyebrows for his troubles. "You kidding? You could do a lot of things with the talent you have. Computer designs, book covers, advertising, anything really."

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, because everyone is fucking tripping over themselves to hire some Southside piece of trash."

Ian looked undeterred. "If you had a paper from some school or some shit, why not?"

"Right, because we have money to throw about."

Ian sighed. "Fine then, as I said, we won't talk about it."

Mickey nodded, satisfied, as he watched Ian put the sketchbook down. The redhead then slid down the bad until he was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Mickey scooted closer, propping up his chin on his boyfriend's chest. He noticed Ian's abs - hell his physique in general - sort of resembled the firemen in Mickey's sketches. Fuck him if he didn't have a type even back then.

A soft snort from above him made him realize he was brushing his fingers up and down Ian's stomach, tickling him in the process. Mickey grinned at his boyfriend but received only a raised eyebrow in return.

"You still pissed about Carl?" he asked rolling his eyes. Ian hadn't been too happy when he found out about the range incident but Mickey thought they had already dealt with it.

Ian shrugged. "I was never pissed, Mick, I would've just welcomed it had you asked me."

"Bullshit. You were giving me the chin, you were pissed."

Ian sighed loudly. "Maybe a little bit. I just didn't want Carl to learn how to shoot, that's all."

"He would've learnt sooner or later, man. This is Chicago, everyone has a gun. Even you have one."

"How do you know?"

Mickey smirked. "Carl told me."

Ian brushed his hand through Mickey's hair, making the black strands stand on end. "I have an ROTC training, Mick. That's different."

"Different how? Like you didn't join that shit just so you could legally shoot some rifles."

Ian scoffed. "Fuck you. That's not why."

Mickey licked his lips, unexplainably feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Why then?"

"I've always wanted to join the army. Have the respect as a soldier, help people, fight for the country I guess. Tomorrow, when I turn eighteen, I'm joining the Active Reserves."

Mickey felt like he had swallowed a lead bullet. "The fuck is that?"

"It's like a reserve of people willing to go and fight if the country's ever in a war. It's only part-time though."

"America's always in some fucking war, Ian."

The redhead shrugged. "It's gonna bring more money into the squirrel fund," he said as if that was a good enough excuse to go and get one's ass blown off in some Stan.

"What about the kids?" he asked, hoping to make Ian see reason.

Ian looked worried for a second before jerking his head in an indifferent manner. "I figured they wouldn't ship me off straight away. There are two training camps a year that you have to go through when you're in the AR, I reckon it's gonna be a few years before they send me off."

Mickey watched as his boyfriend bit his lip. He could tell that as much as he wanted to become a soldier, he was also worried about the kids. He loved the little monsters with all he had, and the thought that he wouldn't be there for them if they needed him must've bothered him.

"What if they send you off sooner than that?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," deadpanned Ian and rolled them over quickly, fastening his lips to Mickey's in the process, effectively ending any and all conversation.

Mickey felt a bit annoyed at first but the longer Ian's tongue was swirling in his mouth, the less he thought about the army and soon enough he wasn't thinking at all. Ian was really good at what he was doing. Things were overall pretty good.

His good mood lasted even after Ian left for work. Mickey was thoroughly enjoying the comfortable high the sex with Ian left him with and was just debating with himself if it was worth it to add weed to the mix, when he heard the front door open and close.

Iggy had informed them in the morning that he was going to be gone the whole day, so there was only one other person that could be coming home after her morning shift. Mandy.

Mandy wasn't talking to him. Mickey thought that after a few hours of sulking she would just get over whatever she thought he had done to her and they'd be fine again, but Mandy decided to hold a grudge like an old Jewish woman.

"Mands?" he called, strolling into the living room, where his sister sat down to eat her lunch.

She didn't even lift her head in acknowledgement.

"Hey, fucktard!" he tried again, voice more gentle that he usually used while talking to his siblings. Again, she didn't even flinch.

When he received the same result after his third call, he huffed. Fucking bitch didn't deserve him anyway, he thought to himself. It's not like he even did anything wrong. Not like he stole her boyfriend or whatever, hell he even warned her that she'd get hurt if she didn't stop pursuing Ian, so if anything, she should thank him.

None of that however managed to stop him from feeling guilty. Maybe he should've told her sooner that he was gay. Or that he was interested in Ian. Or that Ian was apparently interested in him. The whole situation had been made worse just because instead of telling her anything, he left her to find out herself.  Admittedly, she shouldn't have been snooping around his phone but she was bound to find out sooner or later anyway.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down his reeling mind. "It's Ian's birthday tomorrow, he's having a party next week. You coming?"

That did get a reaction out of Mandy, though not one Mickey aimed for. His sister stood up forcefully, shooting an icy glare in his direction, before heading for the stairs.

"Come on, Mandy!" he yelled after her, "it's not Ian's fault we're a fucking shitshow. You really not gonna come to his birthday?"

Mandy stopped in the middle of the staircase, turning to frown at her brother. "So you can rub my nose in it? Fuck you, Mickey. I don't wanna waste my time watching you and your fucking boyfriend sucking faces." And with that she stomped of like a little child.

Fuck his life.

 

The next day was Saturday and because of how late Mickey woke up, he had just about an hour and a half to buy Ian a present before he had to make an appearance at the Gallaghers to pick Ian up. They were supposed to go out and have lunch. There was no real celebration today, since Ian's older siblings weren't coming until the next week and Ian decided to wait for them with his party. Mickey didn't want to give Ian his present in front of his whole family though, so he decided to buy something now. He headed north again, since he figured that nothing he could find in their neighbourhood was going to be any good. And if it was, it was most likely stolen anyway.

He had some cash on him, so he swore he would actually buy whatever present he found, instead of stealing it like he would for Mandy or Iggy. As Mickey walked down the main street, peering into shop windows, he started thinking. What did Ian like? His kids, the army, the gym, action movies, fucking cupcakes ...

There was no way he could buy him anything for either ROTC or the gym, since Ian probably already had everything and Mickey didn't understand that shit anyway. They watched action movies on streaming sites and buying a cupcake was nonsense. He could probably buy some sort of game controller for the kids or something, but that wasn't really a gift for Ian.

What else did he like though? Weed or booze was probably a good idea for today, but not as a present. What else did Ian like though? It's not like they were even dating that long, so Mickey didn't know everything about the guy and-

Wait, Ian was dating Mickey. That had to mean he liked Mickey, right? He could buy something sentimental, that would probably make Ian happy. He was really gay for that romantic shit.

What did Mickey know about romance though?

Romance meant candles and flowers and heart and jewellery and shit and he had no interest in any of that. Ian probably wasn't even that much of a pansy anyway. He probably thought that candles and hearts were useless, flowers didn't last long and the only jewellery he wore were his ROTC dog tags.

That most likely meant Ian didn't mind things hanging around his neck, which was more than he could say about himself. Maybe a necklace then? A manly necklace that is, none of that pendant shit. He didn't have time to put any sort of photo into a pendant anyway.

Mickey strolled into the nearest jewellers that didn't look like fucking Tiffany's and looked around, trying to seem like he wasn't about to steal anything.

"Hello, can I help you?" asked a cheerful blonde who was standing at the counted.

Mick cleared his throat. "Yeah, probably. I need something cheap for my- my brother. For his birthday, you know?"

She smiled at him. "So a bracelet, maybe?"

Mickey scowled. "I was thinking a necklace. Not too heavy, since he's army and doesn't need shit bothering him or anything."

The shop assistant didn't even blink at his swearing just walking over to a display with what looked like silver necklaces. They were sort of heavy looking but the blonde assured him that his _brother_ wouldn't feel anything after a while.

Mickey picked a flat chain with two different link sizes. It was for something over twelve dollars, so not exactly a bargain but not too bad. He let the shop girl wrap it up in a small gift box, forbidding her to put a bow on and left just in time to be fashionably late to pick up his boyfriend.

Ian was already waiting for him in front of the Gallagher's house, smiling softly as Mickey walked up to him.

"You ready?" he asked him and Mickey just shrugged, fighting his own smile.

They walked together in silence for a few moments before Mickey caved in. "What did you do today, birthday boy? Got legally drunk?"

"Not till twenty-one, I can't. Neither can you, Mick," said Ian, laughing.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Fuck off, not like it matters."

Ian shook his head. "I went to sign up for the Reserves."

Mickey felt his chest tighten. "So you can't drink but you can get your ass shot off?" he asked bitterly.

Ian nudged him slightly with his hip. "Don't get angry, Mick. I told you that they probably won't send me off till a few years later."

"Probably. Don't you think your ROTC training might speed things up?"

Ian shrugged, bumping into him again and Mickey found he couldn't stay angry for too long with the smile Ian was giving him. "I got you something," he said instead, pulling out the gift box.

Ian's eyes widened. "God, Mick, you didn't have to do that."

Mickey shrugged but was secretly very pleased with how happy Ian seemed at the prospect of receiving a gift from the older guy. He handed it over and watched as Ian opened the box, pulling out the necklace.

"Fuck," breathed Ian. He looked like he was fighting fucking allergies for a moment before swallowing heavily and clearing his throat.

"Thank you, Mickey. I really like it," he told him when he deemed is voice to be stable enough.

Mickey grinned at him. "Good, would've sucked if you hated it."

Ian laughed and unclasped the silver chain in order to put it around his neck. "Help me?" he asked.

The thug rolled his eyes, looking around quickly to make sure no one was watching them, before he closed the clasp at the base of his boyfriend's neck. "There. You happy now?"

Ian gave him a slow smile. "I am."

Mickey couldn't help himself, so he leaned forward and pecked Ian on the lips. When the redhead pressed for more, he stepped back though. "You'll get more once we're behind closed doors Firecrotch."

Ian's laughter rang in his ears for the next ten minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this is probably not how the US army works, but I figured you wouldn't be too angry if I used my own experience with the army in my country for the purpose of the story :)  
> Any comments will be welcome :)


	8. We're Fucking Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know how I feel about this chapter, so hopefully you'll put my mind at rest and like it :)

"Fuck yes," groaned Mickey as Ian pressed into him slowly. He was kneeling on Ian's bed, his hands clutching the headboard and his face pressed into the pillow, as Ian gripped his hips.

"You like that, Mick?" breathed the redhead against Mickey's sweaty nape.

The shorter man grunted with the force of another thrust. Ian was just picking up his pace but Mickey was already moaning like a little bitch. He bit his lips to prevent another sound leaving his lips but when Ian rammed against his prostate, it couldn't be helped.

"Fuck."

His boyfriend pressed a laughing kiss against his shoulder but Mickey decided he didn't care. He would blow Ian later and they would see then who was going to be laughing.

Ian picked up his pace, moving his hands from Mickey's hips to either side of his head to support himself. He started pounding into Mickey in earnest then, leaving him no choice but to hold onto the headboard for dear life.

"Shit, Mickey, you're so fucking tight."

The thug had nothing to say to that, concentrating all of his remaining mental capacity on not coming untouched. He tried getting his hand around his cock but gave up in lieu of keeping himself from head butting the headboard.

"Fuck, Ian. Come on."

Ian let out a heavy breath. "I'm close," he rasped, his voice making wonderful things to Mickey's insides. He found himself very close to the edge as well and not being able to formulate words, he moaned loudly in order to let Ian know.

"Come on," gasped Ian, quickening his pace some more, "come for me, Mick."

And like a proper little bitch, Mickey did. He came violently, his come soiling the sheets underneath, his knuckles white from how tightly he was clenching his hands.

"Fuck."

Ian suddenly tensed as he too came, spurting into his condom so hard Mickey swore he could almost feel it. Which was nonsense, of course, but whatever ...

Ian climbed off of him, tugging off his condom and throwing it in the direction of a rubbish bin, before slumping exhaustedly next to Mickey.

"That was brilliant."

Mickey grinned. "As always."

Ian snorted, eyes closed. "You're so full of yourself. Good thing I like you."

Mickey's stomach lurched at his boyfriend's words. It wasn't like he didn't realize it before that Ian liked him, but thinking it and hearing it were two completely different things. The thug looked over to his right and seeing that Ian had fallen asleep, he hefted himself up to get a beer or something.

He walked into the kitchen, very grateful he made sure to pull on a pair of sweats as he noticed Debbie and Liam sitting at the dining table.

"Hey buggers," he muttered as he opened the fridge.

The redheaded girl smirked at him from where she was feeding her brother. "I'm not the one who has just been buggering."

"Fuck off, Red."

Debbie rolled her eyes, turning back to Liam: "Mickey Mouse is grumpy again isn't he?"

Liam grinned an uneven-toothed smile at her shouting happily: "Icky!"

Mickey popped a bottle of Budweiser, going over to sit with the kids. Liam was already five and yet he had still trouble stringing words together. Mickey figured he was a bit slow because he spent the school hours with some hag who ran her own little babysitting group and clearly didn't have time to really pay attention to him.

"Whatcha have there, buddy?" he asked the preschooler, pointing at the lumpy gob of greenery Debbie was forcing down Liam's throat.

"Leaves," exclaimed the boy proudly, munching on another mouthful.

Debbie laughed. "It's not leaves, it's lettuce. Say 'lettuce', Liam."

"Less."

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "Sounds about right, man. How about you finish off your greenery and we go into the living room and build some car tracks?"

Liam nodded vehemently, gulping down a spoonful of his mush. "Tracks. Tracks with Icky."

"That's right," concurred Mickey in his most serious tone, "we'll grab a bunch of those wooden pegs you Gallaghers seem to never use and build a great ass track."   

It was an hour and a half of parking toy cars in little parking lots, creating mass accidents and long traffic jams, repeating what colours the cars were and counting the number of pegs later that Ian finally came down.

"You having fun?" he asked as he was leaning in the doorway, a proud dad expression on his freckly face.

Mickey grinned at him. "We are. Liam has even managed to spell his name. Right, buddy?"

Liam ran to his older brother, smiling happily. "L-I-A-M," he chanted.

Ian crouched down next to him. "Liam, that's brilliant! Who knew you were so clever."

Mickey watched them chatting away for a minute before he noticed Debbie gesturing wildly at him from behind Ian, a desperate expression on her face. The thug went over to her nonchalantly, instinctively knowing she didn't want Ian to hear whatever she wanted to talk about.

"You all right?" he asked her, suddenly concerned. Debbie seemed fine when she was feeding Liam but now she looked sad. Mickey hated sad, he didn't know how to deal with it.

The girl bit her lip. "Can I talk to you? I sort of need help or something."

"So do you need help or something?"

Debbie scowled, her chin suddenly determinedly sticking out. "I need to learn how to fight."

Mickey stared. "What? The fuck you need that for?"

Debbie shrugged. "Some girls at school are being bitches to me, so I want to put them back in their place."

Mickey brushed his thumb over his lower lip uncertainly. "Ian know?"

"I don't want to bother him. He already does so much for us."

"Yeah but he's ROTC. If you want to learn to fight, he's the one to ask, no?"

Debbie shook her head, her red hair flying wildly over her face. "Ian taught me some self-defence but he refused to reach me the fighting techniques they teach him at ROTC. He says that if I do it wrong, I might seriously hurt someone."

Mickey snorted. "Isn't that the point?"

Debbie grinned. "Right?"

"I could deal with it if you want. Scare the shit out of those pussies?"

Debbie smiled. "Thank you but I'd rather do it myself."

Mickey respected that. If she wanted to fight her own fights, he was all for it. He just had to find a way to help Debbie and not piss off her older brother in the process. He didn't want a repeat of the Carl incident.

"All right, I'll teach you some stuff. You have time tomorrow?"

Debbie grinned thankfully. "Yeah, sure. Thank you, Mickey."

The thug shrugged. He didn't know how to deal with grateful people, always screwing things up by saying something rude, so now he never said anything in the rare occasion someone thanked him.

Debbie patted him on the back and left, probably to do her hair or something. Or not.

Mickey went back into the living room, where Ian was now playing hide and seek with Liam. The redhead had a happy grin plastered on his face, making him look a few years younger and Mickey couldn't help but smile at the sight. Ian was always handsome, no matter the circumstance, but seeing him with his family, taking care of the kids, Mickey thought his boyfriend looked the best.

Feeling a jolt in his chest - and wasn't that gay? - he couldn't help but think he was falling in love with Ian. He was hot, clever, driven, selfless ... kind of perfect, really. No wonder Mickey hated the idea of him leaving for the fucking army. There was no reason to blow up such a nice ass, he thought.

Fuck.

He wasn't falling in love with Ian. He was already in love with the fucker.

Mickey cleared his throat.

"Ian?"

His boyfriend looked up from where he was pretending to search for hardly hidden Liam. "Yeah?"

"I'm-" he swallowed, "I have to go home now. See you tomorrow?"

Ian frowned slightly. "Sure thing. You ok?"

"Yeah. I'm good. See ya," he finished and, not even kissing Ian goodbye, he left.

Shuffling down the street towards the Milkovich house, Mickey's mind was running overdrive. What did it even mean being in love? Did he have to tell Ian now? What if the fucker didn't feel the same way, what then? Did they break up? Mickey didn't even pretend all would be dandy if they ever broke up. It would suck.

Mickey entered his house, finding Iggy on the living room couch, playing Mafia.

"Hi, bro," yelled his brother over the sounds of gunshots coming from the audio system, "where've you been?"

Mickey threw himself next to Iggy on the couch, snagging a beer from the coffee table. "At Gallagher's."

"Oh, that's right. You're mates with the redhead."

Mickey took a sip of the lukewarm beverage. "Yeah, actually. We're sort of ... ah, banging," he finished with a fake cough.

Iggy turned to him with a maniacal grin on his face. "You're tapping that? Good for you, bro."

The dark haired man stared at his older sibling. What the fuck did just happen? "The fuck?" he asked.

Iggy shrugged. "Well he's hot."

"You gay or something?"

The blonde laughed. "Hell no, but I can appreciate a good looking dude. That a problem?"

Mickey closed his mouth after realizing it had been hanging open in astonishment. "No. No problem."

Iggy nodded, turning back to his game. "Good," he paused for a while, "he any good in bed?"

"Fuck off."

The brothers sat next to each other for a while, only the artificial sounds of fighting disturbing the comfortable silence. Mickey sighed. Things were good, he reasoned with himself, no cause to ruin shit with fucking feelings, right? So what if he maybe liked Ian a little too much? What if he felt a dull ache in his chest every time the redhead mentioned the army and the fucking Reserve? Not like he was Ian's wife or whatever, he couldn't tell him what to do.

"He joined the army," he found himself saying suddenly.

Iggy looked at him. "Well fuck."

"Yeah."

"You told him that was a fucking stupid thing to do?"

"Yeah."

"He did it anyway?"

Mickey shrugged. "Not like I can tell him what to do."

"Why not?"

"If fuck with him, he leaves."

Iggy raised his eyebrows. "He told you that?"

Mickey shook his head. "Didn't have to. I can't really give him anything he needs or whatever, the least I can do is try and not make shit harder on him."

The blond brother snorted. "You got some fucked up opinions, brother. Don't sell yourself short."

Mickey finished off the disgusting beer he had been sipping. "Yeah? What do I got to offer, Ig?"

His brother opened his mouth to answer, before closing it again with a confused expression on his face.

Mickey laughed bitterly. "Exactly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be really chuffed if you commented or hit kudos :)  
> Thank you for reading.


	9. Meeting the Fam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating for so long, I have been too busy during my exam term to write (though not always too busy to read :) I managed to pass seven exams so far with two more still to go, so I'm not on my normal updating schedule yet, but I'll get there soon.  
> This chapter feels weird and I can't think of a reason why, so I welcome any comments you have :)

Dinners fucking sucked.

Mickey looked around the table at all the people who got together to celebrate Ian's belated birthday and swallowed heavily. Family dinners were always a nightmare and this shit wasn't even with his own family.

"So what do you do, Mickey?" asked Ian's older sister, Fiona with a hesitant smile on her face.

Mickey internally groaned. Here it fucking comes. "I don't have a job, ehm, at the moment."

Fiona raised her eyebrows but it didn't look like she was judging him too much. "Well, what are you interested in? What would you like to do?"

Mickey shrugged. He didn't really want to chit chat with the older woman about anything, let alone his nonexistent future. He had no idea what he wished to do.

A pitiful excuse for a man, introduced to him as Lip, raised his eyebrows at him and Mickey was immediately almost consumed by the urge to poke his fucking humongous eyes out.

"You don't have hobbies or anything?" asked the student.

Mickey shrugged. "I do what I gotta do, not like I can go around picking and choosing jobs. What do you do?" he asked derisively.

"I'm at uni, you know, studying."

The thug rolled his eyes. "I meant for your family, dickhead. What do you do for the kids?" he explained, looking over at the three youngest Gallaghers who were quietly eating their meals.

Lip frowned. "I'm getting education, so I can get a better paying job in the future, which is more than I can say for anyone else here," he finished, looking sideways at Fiona.

Mickey opened his mouth to argue some more - feeling the need to point out the kids need the money now, not in fucking five years - but Ian put his hand on his thigh, thus effectively silencing him.

His silence provided a window of opportunity for Debbie, who had been silently brewing in her seat until then: "He's right, Fi. What are you doing to help us?"

Fiona swallowed her mouthful slowly. "Debbie, honey, you know why I had to leave."

Debbie shook her head violently. "No I don't, Fiona! You fed us some bullshit about doctor's orders but you never really talked to us about it. One day you were suddenly fucking married and then you were gone."

"Debbie, you know I'm sick. Would you want me to end up like Monica?"

Carl snorted. "What, you mean like absent?"

Fiona put down her cutlery, folding her arms across her chest. "I had to get away from the toxic environment of Southside or I would've never gotten better. You know how I was before I accepted my treatment."

Debbie had tears in her eyes as she stood up and finally rasped out in a broken voice: "You could've taken us with you." The redheaded girl then abruptly left the dining table and stomped her way upstairs.

Fiona sighed, turning to Carl. "Surely you understand why I couldn't do that, right honey?" Her voice was sweet and patient and Mickey felt like barfing.

The teenager shrugged. "Why?"

"We wouldn't be able to afford it, David and I. Not with my medication and with how expensive things are in the Northside, you have to understand."

Carl shrugged again, outwardly completely unaffected, but Mickey noticed his left eye twitching in resentment.

Mickey put down his fork, not hungry anymore. He couldn't get a proper read on Fiona. Her whole attitude screamed that she cared about her family a lot, with how softly she dealt with the kids and how genuinely she seemed to try not to hurt them but her past actions spoke against her. How the fuck could she have left them to fend for themselves? She left a sixteen-year-old in the role of a single parent, juggling school and fucking three jobs, while she herself was playing house with her husband somewhere in the fucking Northside.

And don't get him started on Lip. All right, he understood, Lip was clever, so what? Couldn't he have waited to go the fucking uni until the kids grew up? The bastard claims to be Ian's best friend and still he doesn't care that the redhead is barely keeping his head above the water. What a fucking joke.

On the other hand, both of them had their lives on track. Fiona was married, had a job, had a house, seemed happy. Lip was supposedly on the top of his class, had a girlfriend, was going to have a good job after he finished school.

What did he have? He had no, job, no friends, no opportunities, nothing except Ian. Take Ian away from him and he's nothing. Completely worthless. It felt all the more worse because neither Fiona nor Lip had been nothing but nice to him, despite his attitude. It was like they pitied him. Like they knew he would be nothing without Ian, so they didn't have to bother putting him down. There was nowhere lower he could fucking go.

Ian looked around the table, the only person still eating was Liam, so he decided to wrap it up. "Should I bring out the beer?" he asked and received five enthusiastic responses. Ian rolled his eyes. "You can't have beer Liam, I'm sorry, you're getting juice. And you can take a sip, Carl."

The teenager narrowed his eyes in contemplation. "A gulp."

"Ok, you get a gulp. I'll clean this up, you all can move on into the living room," he shooed them away as he went about puttering around the kitchen.

Mickey snagged a can of beer and decided to head upstairs to check on Debbie before he joined the party in front of the telly.

He knocked on her door.

"Go away," came the unsteady response.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Nothing doing, princess," he said sarcastically, "I came to hide away from your siblings under the pretence of checking up on you, so now I have to do it." He didn't tell her no one really knew where he went and that if they even noticed he was missing, they would probably think he was in the head.

Debbie opened the door, scowling unattractively at him. "I'm fine."

Mickey looked at her tear streaked face.  "I can see that," he said quietly.

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Ok then, I will be fine."

Looking over her shoulder and seeing no traces of a teenage girl heart break routine, he figured she'd really be all right sooner or later.

"Ok, I'm heading back downstairs. If you ever feel like joining us, I promise to give you a joint for every uncomfortable situation you get in with Fiona, so you can pawn them off later at school."

Debbie laughed. "Thanks, but no thanks." She then looked at the floor, obviously gathering courage, before springing up and hugging him tightly. "You are a very good person, Mickey, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

The thug bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything sappy before quickly letting go of the emotional girl and patting her on the head. "Go back to your brooding, kid," he told her before making his way back downstairs.

He entered the living room to find the Gallaghers sitting in a circle and playing ... fuck-him-sideways they were actually playing a game of truth or dare.

Lip was just telling Ian to do ten push ups with him sitting on his back.

"Fuck off, you'll break my back, asshole."

Lip laughed. "Come on, I won't put my fully weight on you."

Ian looked very sceptical but he got on all fours anyway. Waiting for his brother to seat his backside on his back before starting to count.

"One," he breathed out, obviously unprepared for such a weight.

"Two." Mickey licked his lips at how Ian's arms bulged with muscles at the strain.

"Three."  
  
"Four."

"Five." A drop of sweat slid down the side of the redhead's face.

"Six."

"Seven." It looked like Lip was resting almost all of his weight on Ian, despite his assurances.

"Eight," he got out breathlessly and Mickey was embarrassingly reminded of Ian speaking in the middle of sex.

"Nine."

"Ten," he finished, flopping on his stomach as his arm gave out underneath the combined weight of his and his brother's body. "Fuck Lip, you're fucking ridiculously heavy."

Lip just grinned as he rose from where he was crushing Ian's spine.

Ian sat up. "Ok," he said as he got his panting back under control, "Carl, truth or dare?"

"Truth," exclaimed Carl, looking expectantly at Ian.

The redhead grinned. "Where did you hide the police baton I specifically asked you not to steal and you stole it anyway? I can't find it."

Carl scowled. "I reckon it's in the same place your gun is," he said petulantly.

Ian laughed. "No it's not. Come on, dish."

Carl sighed theatrically. "Fine, it's in the deep baking dish you never use because you hate that it's pink."

Ian snorted. "God, you're a clever bastard."

Carl shrugged, turning his head to look at Mickey. "Hey, Mick! Truth or dare?"

Scared of what the little monster might make him do if he chose dare, he said: "Truth."

Carl narrowed his eyes in thought. "When did you lose your virginity?"

Ian immediately gave him a light tap on the back of the head. "Carl!" he reprimanded him, "you shouldn't ask such questions."

"Why?"

Ian opened his mouth, obviously at a loss. "Because it's not even ten yet?"

The teenager snorted. "I stand by my question. Mickey?"

Mickey was panicking internally as Ian shot him an apologetic look. What did losing one's virginity even entail? Was what he did in that back alley enough? Because for some reason, it didn't feel like enough. He felt like he really started having sex only when he met Ian.

"Mickey?" asked Carl again and the thug realized they were now all waiting for an answer. He snapped.

"A few months ago," he spat at the kid before turning on his heel and heading for the back door. So much for fucking family celebration and shit. He should've known he was just going to end up embarrassing himself.

He heard Ian running after him. "Mickey, wait."

Mickey opened the door and managed to walk a few yards before a large hand caught his wrist, effectively halting his escape.

"Mickey," said Ian quietly, studying his face.

"What?" he spat out, feeling hurt and humiliated.

"Was I your first?" asked the redhead softly, his eyes large.

Mickey shrugged.

"Why didn't you say anything? I would've-"

"What? Made it nice and slow? Fuck off," said Mickey as he tore his arm out of Ian's grip, trying to walk away again.

Ian caught his hand again. "Mickey, wait."

Mickey sighed. "Look, Gallagher, I'm feeling pretty shitty right now, so just leave me alone for now and we'll talk tomorrow, ok?"

Ian let out a long breath. "Ok."

Mickey went on his way again, this time slowly, as Ian watched him go. He was just down the street from his house, when his phone chirped with a text message.

He pulled out his phone.

_"I'm sorry."_

Mickey rolled his eyes as he put his phone back in his pocket. He didn't manage to make two steps before it sounded again.

_"I really hope we're ok."_

And again.

_"For the record, I'm glad I was your first."_

And again.

_"See you tomorrow."_

And again. God, this was really annoying. Couldn't Ian just send it all in one message?

He looked at the phone: _"I love you."_

Mickey tried to suppress the blush threatening to bloom in his cheeks. What an idiot.


	10. New Opportunities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so I'm supposed to be cramming for my next exam right now but here I have the next chapter for you :)  
> My grades are going to love that decision, I'm sure.

"You'll never guess what happened," said a grinning Ian as he entered the kitchen, interrupting Mickey and Liam's afternoon learning lesson.

"Ok," Mickey said slowly, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead, "then I won't try to guess and you'll just tell me."

Ian pouted. "You're no fun. You know how Lieutenant Zeleny asked me to come to his office?"

Mickey nodded. Lieutenant Zeleny was a balding guy from the recruitment office that Ian spoke with when he signed up for AR and the dude had immediately  taken a liking to the redhead. He had called Ian the day before, asking him to come and talk to him in the morning.

"Well, it turns out that he thinks my ROTC history is impressive and my schoolwork satisfactory enough to get offered an extensive training."

Mickey's breath hitched but he tried to seem nonchalant. "Really? What is that?"

Ian sat down, his eyes shining with excitement. "It's a year-long training camp for 'promising cadets'," he grinned as he made the air quotes, "that prepares soldiers for immediate service."

Mickey felt like he could throw up. Fucking army. "Yeah?" he asked.

Ian nodded. "It begins in December, fifteenth I think, and if I prove myself to be good enough, I might even get a place in an overseas mission right after."

"That's ..." That was fucking bullshit. Stupid. Reckless. Demented. "That's good?" Mickey said finally, his voice uncertain.

Ian's smile grew a bit more hesitant. "Yeah, that's good. It's what I always wanted. And it brings a lot more money into the fund if I go on a mission. The kids, you, everyone will be fine."

Mickey took a deep breath. Ian was leaving. What had seemed so far away just fucking yesterday, was a reality today and Ian was leaving in just a few short months. A month and a fucking half actually. Wasn't that just dandy?

If Ian wanted to leave Mickey, he didn't have to get his ass shipped to fucking Iraq or something. He could've just told him to fuck off, Mickey would understand.

"Mickey?"

The thug met his boyfriend's eyes, seeing the concern in them. "Sorry, yeah. If that's what you want, I'm ... happy for you, I guess."

Ian took his hand. "You sure?"

"Yeah, we're dandy, right Liam?"

The black boy grinned at him. "Dandy with Icky!"

Ian laughed. "You learned any new words today, Liam?"

The preschooler nodded enthusiastically. "Caravan. Motorbike. Fire truck. Shitty-"

Mickey managed to slap a hand over his mouth. "Liam, what did I say about repeating every word I say?"

But Ian just laughed at his youngest brother. "That's ok, Li. Those are all very useful words." His boyfriend's smile then softened as he shifted his eyes back to him. "Thank you, Mickey. You're really fucking good with him."

Mickey shrugged. "Yeah well, he's not stupid or anything, he just needs a bit of attention. Watch this," he turned to Liam, "Hey buddy, if you have two dollars and I give you two more dollars. How many do you have?"

Liam stuck out his clumsy fingers, pointing slowly at four of them. "Four!" he yelled out finally.

Mickey nodded. "That's right. And if I offer you three dollars for your four, what do you say?"

Liam grinned innocently. "No!"

Mickey grinned right back at him and tussled his curly hair. "Good man."

Ian stared. "Wow, Liam. That's fucking brilliant."

Mickey stood up to grab a beer as Liam climbed down his chair and disappeared in the living room, presumably to watch an episode of Simpsons that Mickey heard beginning on the telly. He popped the bottle, throwing away the cap before startling at the feel of strong hands encircling his waist.

"Thank you, Mick," breathed Ian, blowing hot air against his ear.

Mickey leaned back into him. "What for?"

"For being here."

Mickey felt his heart stutter - he was turning into a fucking girl - and shrugged his boyfriend off. What did it matter anyway that he was here if Ian was going to fuck right off? He hated the heavy feeling that had settled in his chest when Ian told him about the extensive training. How dependant he became on Ian, how everything he was thinking, everything he was feeling revolved around the charming redhead.

Maybe it was time to step back a bit. To create some breathing space for himself, so when Ian does finally leave, he doesn't leave such a huge gaping void behind. Maybe he should learn how to keep his distance.

He should've never become so wrapped up in the Gallagher family anyway, come to think of it. What were the odds this relationship will last past the fucking training? Mickey should find a way to make it hurt less when Ian breaks it off.

"Mickey?"

Mickey smiled at his boyfriend, determined not to let him see how much he was reeling from Ian's news. "What?"

"You free tonight for dinner? I put away some money, so we could go out for some good burgers or something."

Mickey was already opening his mouth to agree, when he stopped himself. He had just told himself, he had to keep his distance and he was going to agree to a date right away? He was a pussy.

"I can't, I have to go home tonight," he said finally, biting his lip at the way Ian's face fell.

Ian sighed. "Ok, never mind. We'll go some other time," he finished with a hesitant smile.

Mickey returned it, just as hesitantly. "Ok."

Mickey then left the Gallagher house, shuffling home slowly, being reminded of the way he left after the disastrous family dinner last week. He pulled out his phone, just to check for text messages, feeling unexplainably disappointed when he saw there were none.

It's not like Ian made a habit of sending him stupid 'I love yous' every day but it had happed a few times already despite the fact Mickey never answered.

Mickey put his phone away again, walking the last few metres to the Milkovich house and bursting through the door.

"The fuck is your problem?" came the annoyed shout from the couch and Mickey stopped in his tracks.

"What, you talking to me again?" he asked his sister incredulously.

Mandy shrugged, giving him a glare from where she was sitting. "What got you so pissed?" she asked quietly.

It was Mickey's turn to shrug. "You don't wanna know."

Mandy patted the seat next to her, motioning for Mickey to join her on the couch. "Is it about Ian?" she asked when he sat down next to her.

"Yeah."

"What did he do?"

Mickey looked at his sister in hesitation, trying to figure out if she was genuinely interested or if she was baiting him. In the end, he decided it didn't really matter.

"He's leaving for the army."

Mandy's eyes widened. "What? When?"

"The middle of December. Got offered a shoe-in because of the ROTC or something."

Mandy seemed honestly disturbed. "And you can't change his mind?"

The thug shrugged. "I didn't try."

"Why the hell not?"

"It's his dream, bitch. He always wanted to join the fucking army and now he has the chance. He'd be stupid to stay with me."

"Wait, what do you mean? Did he break up with you?"

Mickey sighed, leaning against the back of the couch. Ian didn't break up with him but he might have just as well had. "He didn't say it but it's kind of obvious, isn't it? We can't really date if he's gone for a year. Or longer."

Mandy frowned. "You have to talk to him, Mick. Maybe you can change his mind?"

"I don't want to change his mind! I mean, I do, but not really," he said, frustrated that he didn't know how to express what he was feeling. He didn't want to stand in the way of Ian's dream but he also wanted to keep Ian for himself.

"What about the kids?" asked a subdued Mandy after a beat of silence.

Mickey scowled. That was actually a good fucking question. What about the kids? Would Ian just leave them to fend for themselves just like Lip and Fiona did? No, he wouldn't do that. Then what the fuck is Ian planning on doing?

"I don't know. I mean, he wouldn't just leave them, but I don't know."

Mandy grinned at him. "Maybe you can babysit?"

He grinned back at her. "Fuck off, bitch." And just like that it was like their argument never happened. Mickey punched Mandy in the chest, which she returned right back and he knew they were all right again.

"So what are you gonna do?" she asked.

Mickey sighed. "Gonna keep my distance, I guess. Prepare myself to be let down gently so I can pretend I don't care?"

Mandy rolled her eyes. "That's sad. Maybe he won't break up with you? I mean, doesn't he like you?"

_I love you._ That's what Ian said - well wrote. Did he really though? Did he love him or did he just feel like he should say it? Did he feel like Mickey wanted to hear it and that's why he said it? Was that why he didn't seem angry or hurt when Mickey didn't respond in kind?

Mickey cleared his throat. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore. I can feel a fucking vagina growing as it is. What about you? What's going on with Cole?"

Mandy rolled her eyes. " I can assure you that having a vagina is perfectly fine, pleasurable even."

"Yeah yeah, I don't want to hear it. It's disgusting."

"You're disgusting."

"What about Cole, shithead? He still bothering you?"

Mandy shrugged. "Yes and no. He's still interested but it's not bothering me as much anymore. He's kind of cute actually."

"Cute? Since when do you like cute?"

Mandy glared. "Since the hot ones are gay?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Not my fault we're irresistible."

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about Ian."

"I know. So ... cute?"

Mandy sighed. "Yeah well, I decided to tap that and see where it goes."

"Good luck with that. You let him dip his dick, he won't ever stop trailing after you."

Mandy threw a cushion at his head. "Fucking disgusting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no experience with anything like the extensive training that I described in this chapter, as far as I know it doesn't even exist, but whatever. I'm taking some liberties with describing the army and I hope none of you mind that :)  
> Any comments or kudos are welcome, they always make me happy and give me a reason to keep writing :)


	11. Fuck Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand another chapter. Keep your fingers crossed for me tomorrow, with how much I've been learning (not), I'll need it :)

Mickey knocked on the door to the Gallagher house and held his breath. He hasn't been this nervous to see who opened the door since the first time he visited. For the past four days, he had been avoiding Ian as much as he could - which in reality wasn't such a feat with how busy the redhead was - and as a result only saw him once. The meeting was brief and the two men didn't talk much at all, settling for a short make out session instead. Mickey knew that the next time they saw each other, they would have to talk, and to say that he wasn't looking forward to that was an understatement. He couldn't be avoiding it forever though.

The sound of clearing one's throat woke him from his musings and Mickey looked up to come face to face with none other than his boyfriend.

Well fuck. Here it comes.

"Hey," he said, his voice sounding a bit strained to his ears.

"Hey," replied Ian. He wasn't exactly frowning but Mickey got the feeling the wanna be soldier wasn't going to be all sunshine and rainbows during their conversation.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Mickey entered hesitantly, feeling a heavy atmosphere settle on his shoulders. He imagined this was what it felt like to walk into a cell in the death row. All sentimental feelings, regret and other heavy bullshit.

This was it. This was the day Ian would kick him to the curb. Unless Mickey gathered his courage and did it himself. That had to feel better, right? To be the break-uper rather than the break-upee?

"You ok?" asked Ian when he reckoned Mickey had been silent long enough.

Mickey nodded his head, biting his lip. "Yeah, man. I'm fine."

Suddenly he had a 150 pounds of a very angry man right in front of his face. "Really?" Ian asked forcefully, an ugly sneer on his lips, "You're fine, huh? Why are you fucking lying to me all the time? I know you're not fucking all right, you hardly spoke to me this past few days and I have no idea why! What did I do wrong?"

Mickey tried to interrupt but the younger man didn't give him a chance, continuing his rant: "Talk to me Mickey! Tell me what's wrong! Did I do something to hurt you? To offend you? Or are you just simply looking for an out?"

"That's not it, man," said Mickey, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Then what? Tell me why you're unhappy," sighed Ian finally, the fight leaving his body for the moment.

That rose Mickey's hackles. "You wanna know what's wrong?" he yelled, "I hate you, Ian! I hate what you do to me what you make me feel. I hate that I can't go through my fucking day without thinking about you all the time. You're everywhere I fucking look and where does that leave me?

I hate how fucking dependant on you I became. Like I can't decide anything for myself, like I have to constantly take you into consideration. Like how-"

"That's called a fucking relationship, Mick!" shouted Ian in exasperation, "you think of the other person and include their opinions in your decisions!"

"Yeah? Is that what you fucking did with your decision to join the fucking army? Fuck you Ian!" cried Mickey, feeling to his horror how hot tears gathered in his eyes.

"Fuck you! How am I supposed to know what you're feeling when you don't tell me anything?"

The tears fell. "You should just fucking know!"

Ian growled. "How? Just because I love you doesn't mean I can read your mind!"

Mickey stared. Ian told him he loved him. Out loud. He couldn't think as he watched Ian's chest heave with sharp breaths. His boyfriend was red in the face, his freckles practically disappearing in the flush, his clothes were rumpled and his buzz cut was dripping sweat.

He looked fucking hot like that, all power and dominance. Mickey felt an unexplainable weakness in his knees at the sight. His pupils dilated as he stepped closer to the other man, watching as his boyfriend's eyes widened in surprise.

"You're kidding," breathed Ian, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Mickey took another step closer. "No."

Ian's breath hitched as his eyes darkened. "Fuck," he let out softly before grabbing Mickey's head and pulling him into a heated kiss. Mickey opened his mouth immediately to welcome Ian's tongue inside and moaned in contentment at the feeling.

He had missed this. The feeling of clumsy hands worming their way under T-shirts and into pants, hot breaths puffing against cheeks and sweat dripping down their foreheads.

"God Mickey, come on," growled Ian as he tugged off Mickey's T-shirt before pushing the smaller boy towards the stairs, "come on."

Mickey stumbled along the way, only Ian's arms preventing him from actually falling on his ass, trying to undress Ian at the same time as climbing the stairs. "Take it off, Ian," he panted.

Ian wasn't listening to him, undressing the thug instead and leaving little kisses and bites along his collarbone as they entered Ian's bedroom.

Mickey stumbled again and this time instead of saving him from humiliation, Ian used his unsteadiness to push him onto the bed. Mickey huffed at that but quickly overcame his irritation in order to finish undressing. He watched as his boyfriend opened his bedside table draw and took out a bottle of lube.

"On your knees," he ordered, tugging his trousers open but leaving the rest of his clothes on.

Mickey suppressed a shiver as he did as he was told and rose up on his hands and knees spreading his legs to give Ian a good view. His boyfriend seemed to appreciate the move with how his nine inch cock twitched in his hand.

The thug arched his back to stick his ass out a bit more and grinned at the loud groan Ian let out. He knew how to work Ian just as much as Ian knew how to have him begging. He often managed to make the taller guy lose his control despite his limited sexual experience before him. It was like it came naturally to him, how to move, what to say, when the clench, when to roll his hips.

His gloating was interrupted by a slick finger circling his eager hole. He managed not to tense up as the digit entered him and Mickey congratulated himself on a job well done before he teasingly clenched his ass.

"Fuck, Mickey," came the immediate response, "you're so tight."

Mickey moaned pornographically. "Yeah? Gonna fuck me?"

"Yeah, going to do you so good, Mick, you won't know what hit you."

The thug felt another finger joining the first and he hung his head heavily in between his shoulders. He really missed this these past few days, he swore he would never go so long without sex ever again.

That would be hard to do when Ian left for the fucking training shit, he thought and immediately regretted it as he felt his erection waning slightly.

Ian noticed. "Think about me, Mick. Nothing but me," he told him as he added another dollop of lube and pressed three slicked fingers inside.

Mickey nodded, suddenly breathless. He could do that, he thought. The fingers felt really good, stretching him for the main event, despite the fact that Ian seemed to ignore his prostate.

"You ready?"

"I was fucking born ready, Gallagher," he grunted through clenched teeth as he felt sweat starting to sting around his eyes. He felt Ian pull out his fingers and swallowed a needy whine.

Ian huffed out a short laugh, probably hearing it anyway, before getting into position and with a slight tickle of Mickey's sides, he plunged his dick into the tight heat of Mickey's body.

"Fuck, fuck, Ian!"

"Breathe, Mick," Ian told him in an echo of their first time and Mickey had to clam tightly on the need to come right then and there. Surprisingly, it got a bit better as Ian started moving, not caring Mickey wasn't as stretched as usually, the slight pain delaying his orgasm.

"You good?"

Mickey would've rolled his eyes if he had the coordination to do it. "Not here to chat, Ian," he gasped out.

Ian thrust punishingly hard at that, knocking the breath out of the smaller man's chest momentarily. Mickey just laughed when he got his breath back. "That all you got, Firecrotch?"

Ian pushed Mickey's upper back flat on the bed with one of his large hands, resting the other one on his right asscheek. "No," he said as he lifted the hand before bringing it back down sharply.

Mickey felt a sharp wave of pleasure shoot through him. Did Ian just fucking spank him? He felt himself clenching painfully around the cock inside him.

"You like that huh?" said Ian as he brought his hand down again. And again.

"Fuck, Ian." Mickey knew he wouldn't last long as one slap after another was upended on his ass. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

Ian was pumping his hips rapidly by then, a sign of him being on the very edge as well, Mickey meeting his thrusts needily. "Come for me, Mick."

"Ian," he groaned, feeling the high coming, "Ian!"

Mickey spurted his come across the sheets without having to touch himself even once and triggered thus Ian's own orgasm. The large man coating his insides before slumping to the side, taking Mickey with him.

The thug felt drowsy, like a warm blanket was wrapped around his brain and everything was fucking fuzzy. What the hell? He thought before succumbing to sleep, Ian's dick still half hard locked inside of him.

Mickey woke up alone.

It wasn't really such a surprise since Ian worked from fuck-stupid o'clock but Mickey still felt  twinge of disappointment at the cold sheets by his side. Time to go home, he thought as he heaved himself up tiredly. Hopefully, Mandy would be at the house and have some breakfast ready by the time he arrived.

He looked at the clock. Make it a lunch, he corrected himself.

He dressed slowly, enjoying the soreness of his muscles and the slight chafing he felt in his ass before heading downstairs and leaving through the unlocked back door.

Mandy was indeed at home but there was no food.

"You not cooking today?"

His sister shook her head, grinning at him. "Nope," she said, popping the 'p' loudly, "I have a lunch date today, so no cooking."

"A lunch date?" asked Mickey with raised eyebrows.

She hummed in agreement. "Cole asked me out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He was really nice and cute about it."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Here we go again. Cute?"

Mandy shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a sucker for nerdy guys."

"No you're not, you're just desperate."

"That too. Though honestly? He's very nice. A bit boring maybe, but very nice."

Mickey bit his lip. "Good. That's good. He hurts you, you tell me and I'll set him straight."

Now it was Mandy's turn to roll her eyes. "Please, you have enough of your own problems. What about you and Ian? Did you talk?"

Mickey sharply lifted his right shoulder before letting it fall back down. "I guess."

"Well what did you say?"

"I don't even fucking remember. I yelled at him, he yelled at me and then we fucked."

Mandy seemed worried. "So you didn't break up then, right?"

Mickey's breath stuttered. They didn't break up, right? Ian told him he loved him. That's not something you say when you break up, isn't it?

Fucking hell.

"I don't know actually," he sighed.

Mandy sat up sharply. "What? What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean that I don't know, ok? We didn't really talk, we mostly just yelled stuff at each other."

"Well what did he say?"

"He said he loved me," muttered Mickey.

Mandy almost squealed. Fucking squealed. "Really? And what did you say?"

"What should I have said?"

"You're kidding, right? You didn't say it back?"

The thug scowled. "No."

His sister punched him in the shoulder. He winced. "The fuck?"

She sneered at him. "You're an ass. He tells you he loves you and you say nothing?"

He shrugged.

"You're practically his fucking wife, living in his fucking house, babysitting his fucking kids and you can't tell him you love him back?"

Mickey stood up. "Fuck off, Mandy.  I'm no one's wife."

Mandy grinned before belting out: "But I love my life! And all. That. Ja-azz!"

Mickey threw an empty beer can after her as she danced out of the room, still singing. He laughed at her antics before sighing tiredly. He did practically live with Ian, he mused, with the exception of the last four days, that is. That meant it was serious, right? Ian wasn't suddenly going to break up with him.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are welcome.  
> Just tell me I'm good at writing smut. Lie if you have to :)


	12. I Need You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than you might be used to, but it just felt good to end it like that, so I guess you'll have to cope :D

Mickey woke up slowly, the typical sounds of the neighbourhood gradually filtering into his consciousness. He could hear a car swerving somewhere in the distance, some people shouting, a dog barking and then whining as a loud crack was heard from somewhere nearby, an amused chuckle from his right, the sound of police sirens only a few streets over-

Wait.

Mickey opened his eyes only to come face to face with a chuckling Ian.

"Fucking hell!" he cried out in alarm and punched Ian in the shoulder, "You're a fucking dick."

Ian just shook his head in amusement. "You're cute when you're all scared."

"I'm not scared, you jerk," Mickey grunted as he tried to calm down his racing heartbeat, "what are you even doing here?"

Ian's face suddenly took on a serious expression. "We need to talk, Mickey."

Shit. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. And there it was, Ian was finally going to do it. Mickey had been kidding himself when he thought Ian couldn't break up with him now that he had told him he loved him. Ian was going to do it.

"Ok," he said slowly, as if he could stall the inevitable.

"I thought about what you said, about being dependant on me." Ian waited to see if Mickey wanted to add anything to that but the shorter man was too paralyzed by the situation he couldn't speak. The redhead continued: "And I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing."

Mickey snorted but Ian held up his hand.

"Listen, Mick. I don't think it's a bad thing because just like I said, I think it's just a part of being in a relationship. And before you interrupt me again, let me tell you that it goes both ways."

His tongue finally untangled since it didn't look like Ian was breaking up with him - yet - Mickey asked: "Both ways? How?"

"I depend on you too, Mickey," Ian said softly, "I depend on you to be here for me when the money situation is not good, I depend on you to help me with the kids and I depend on you to support me. You think I would ever find the courage to actually go after my dream if it wasn't for you?"

Mickey stared. "What?" he pressed out through his clenched throat.

Ian shrugged uncomfortably. "I rely on you to be here for me. I need you to actually go through with this, Mick. You think I can fuck off to the fucking training if you're not here to help the kids? If you're not here for me to come back to?"

The thug felt water well up in his eyes the second time in as many days. What Ian had just said was ... actually really fucking nice to hear. "Ian," he sighed.

The redhead continued quickly. "And it's not just me, the kids are fucking attached as well. Debbie keeps gloating about how you helped her beat off bullies at her school, Carl can't stop talking about how you are going to take him to the shooting range again - which by the way you are forbidden to do until he manages to up his history grade - and Liam is constantly asking when he'll be allowed to read with his Icky again.

"Can you see what I'm trying to say? We're much more dependent on you than you are on us and I can only hope that you're not going to get tired of all of this and leave."

Mickey had to stop comparing himself to a girl every time he got even the slightest bit emotional, because with Ian around he was facing some serious identity issues. He rubbed his eyes violently to try and stop the tears falling. "I'm not gonna fucking leave, Ian," he said finally, his voice breaking.

The redhead smiled at him. "Good, because I really need you around."

Mickey couldn't fucking hold it back anymore, he choked out a hiccupping sound and threw himself into his boyfriend's arms. If he couldn't stop himself from crying, he could at least hide his face in Ian's shirt.

Ian pressed him tightly against himself, running a large palm across the smaller man's back and pressing warm kisses against his temple. "Shush, all's good. All is good."

Mickey chuckled wetly, grumbling something about allergy attacks.

"I know, I know," soothed Ian, "you're allergic to feelings. Prepare you're tissues, tough guy, because I love you," he finished with another kiss into Mickey's hair.

Mickey pushed himself away, suddenly not caring about his tear streaked face. "I love you too."

Ian grinned, trying to wipe his boyfriend's face with his hands. "I know."

"I thought you were going to break up with me."

Ian stopped running his hands over Mickey's cheeks. "What?"

"I thought that you were going to the army to get away from me, so that the break up would be easier."

"Mickey," breathed Ian, "you're crazy if you think that. I would never- I love you. I'm not breaking up with you, now or ever. I'm going to the army because you gave me the confidence, the opportunity to do it. I can go without feeling guilty about leaving the kids alone because they won't be. They'll have you.

And with the money I'll be sending in, you'll be able to live pretty comfortably down here," he finished with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "So Mandy was right, I'm your fucking wife."

Ian laughed, the sound clear and loud. "You're no one's wife, Mick."

"That's what I said!"

Ian chuckled before hugging him again. Mickey didn't find it, he'd just check later if he still had a dick.

"We ok now?" asked the redhead quietly.

"Yeah, we're fine," answered Mickey before turning his head against Ian's chest to look at the clock. It was barely half past seven in the morning - which was fucking early if you asked him but Ian still had to be running late to work. "Shouldn't you be working, G.I. Joe?"

"Called in sick," came the reply with a nonchalant shrug.

Mickey grinned. "You wanna lie down with me? We can sleep in."

"Sleep in?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah, I forgot you don't know what that is. It's really nice though, you should try it sometime."

"Yeah?" asked Ian with a wide smile as he pushed Mickey back to lie on the bed.

"Yeah."

They both lied down next to each other, not bothering with the duvet, which ended up twisted somewhere in between their entangled legs. Ian wormed an arm underneath Mickey's shoulders before tugging him towards himself, pressing his smaller body to his side.

It didn't take long for them to drift off.

Mickey woke up in a similar fashion to the first time he woke that day, his senses coming to him slowly. There was one distinct difference though, his whole front was pressed against something large, warm and comfortable.

"Good morning, sleepyface," whispered a raspy voice next to his ear.

"Morning, douchebag," Mickey replied.

Ian pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Twat."

Mickey sighed in contentment. "What time is it?"

"Three minutes past ten," came the immediate answer at which the thug raised his head. He rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, you have been awake for hours and been hypnotizing that clock to go faster."

Ian grinned. "You got me. I'm not used to 'sleeping in', though you were right, it is nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I like watching you sleep. You look almost non-threatening that way."

Mickey frowned. "Whatever," he said before laying his head back down on Ian's chest. He felt his boyfriend's hand start running through his hair and he groaned in pleasure. They spent a few minutes like that, just enjoying each other's company in the late morning.

Mickey was just about to fall back asleep when he heard Ian speak.

"Move in with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tell me what you think, I'll be eternally grateful for any feedback :)


	13. Birthday Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit longer again but I had some trouble at school that I had to take care of and I wasn't in any mood to write :(

"Do you have a list?" asked Mandy for the third time that afternoon.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "I don't need a fucking list, Mandy! You're just as bad as Ian. This is not a military operation, I have like one bag of shit and that's it."

His sister pouted. "But shouldn't moving be like a big deal or something?"

The dark haired man shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. It was a big deal all right. He was moving in with Ian today and while outwardly he was calm, he was freaking out something horrible inside. It shouldn't really feel so big, thought Mickey, he had been practically living with Ian already, this just made it official. Still, Mickey had to stop his hands shaking like every five minutes or so.

"You sure you have everything?" asked his sister.

"Stop mothering me, bitch. If I forget something, I'll just walk back the fucking five hundred metres and get it."

Mandy scowled. "You're a dick, Mickey. I just never thought you would leave."

"I'm not fucking leaving, we'll see each other all the time," grunted Mickey as he picked up his old army issued rucksack that he once stole off of a dude who fell asleep on the train.

The dark haired girl pouted at him. "I know, I know, Jesus. It just feels weird. I mean, I'm happy for you and Ian but I will miss you."

Mickey rolled his eyes as he stepped towards Mandy to give her the Milkovich alternative to a hug - a titty twister.

"Ouch! You dickwad!" cried out Mandy as she punched him into the chest, "I officially won't miss you anymore."

The ex-con grinned at her before heading for the door, trying not to think too much about the fact that from now on he was going to be living with his boyfriend.

He never thought something like that would ever happen to him. It felt like he was gaining a second family and Mickey couldn't help but feel all sappy about it. He grew up with the wrong idea of what family was, he reckoned. He always thought of his siblings as his brothers in arm, fighting together against everything and everyone, including his dad.

He loved his siblings but he would be the first one to admit that their relationship was usually one of quid pro quo. You wanted your sister to cook you dinner? You had to steal a new skirt for her. You wanted your brother to lend you his car? You had to bribe him with a bag or two of good weed. Someone wanted you to repair a washing machine? You won't work until you get some fucking food.

He looked up as he stopped in front of the Gallagher house, interrupting his own musings. This was it, he thought as he took a deep breath. Without further ado, he knocked on the door and not waiting for an answer - it was his house too now wasn't it? - he entered.

He met Ian in the middle of the kitchen and the two just smiled at each other.

"Hey," said Ian quietly.

"Hey."

"You good?"

Mickey sighed but couldn't stop smiling. "I'm perfect."

Ian grinned and stepped closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and swooping down to kiss him.

"Icky!" sounded from somewhere above them and Mickey grinned at his boyfriend. Ian rolled his eyes at the interruption. "We'll see how much you like that when he demands you share a room with him instead of me. He was bugging me all morning about where you'll be sleeping."

"He just wants to be close to his best friend, right Li?" asked Mickey the little boy when he finally appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Icky!" Liam repeated as he stumbled over to the thug and threw his short arms around his legs.

Mickey bent over to pick him up, tickling him slightly as he did. "Hey young man, how ya doing?"

"Good. You sleep with Liam?" asked the boy.

Mickey shook his head, noticing from the corner of his eye the remaining two Gallaghers entering the kitchen. "I can't buddy, but I promise to be here for you, ok?"

Liam seemed a bit sad but thankfully didn't throw a fit, nodding his curly head instead in agreement. "Ok."

Mickey put him down after that and turned to the remaining two Gallaghers. They were looking a bit hesitantly at him, so Mickey decided to break the ice: "What? You want me to sleep with you too?"

Debbie rolled her eyes and grinned at him, while Carl looked confused.

"Welcome home, Mickey," said Debbie as she came up to him to hug him. Mickey let her.

Carl looked pleased despite himself and apparently couldn't help but ask: "You gonna teach me how to steal phones?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Just don't forget to turn it off right after you nick it and throw out the card before you turn it back on."

Ian slapped his arm, looking horrified. "Mick!"

"What?"

Ian smirked at him. "Don't you think I taught him all that already?"

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "You did?"

"Yeah. I mean, I told him not to do it and everything but I knew he'd try and do it anyway, so I wanted to at least make sure he wouldn't get caught."

The ex-con shook his head. "You're so fucking weird, Ian."

"Yeah yeah, go and put your bag upstairs, you know where my room is."

"Our room," blurted Mickey before he could change his mind.

Ian stared at him. "Our room," he admitted smiling.

When Mickey came back downstairs after depositing his bag at the foot of their bed, Debbie was in a full-on bitch mode.

"We have to have a cake, Ian! It's a celebration!"

The soldier sighed. "I know Debs, but Mickey doesn't even eat cake."

Mickey bit his lip. "You talking about me, Firecrotch?" he asked.

Ian turned around to look at him. "Hey, Mick!"

Mickey only looked expectantly at his boyfriend, keeping the eye contact until Ian broke.

"Debbie offered to organize a 'moving-in party' for you but when I told her your birthday was tomorrow, she freaked."

The redheaded girl scowled. "Because I don't even have a present for him, Ian! You could have told me sooner."

Mickey smiled slightly at that. He had completely forgot about his birthday and he couldn't help but feel happy that Ian remembered. It's not like they even talked about celebrating it and the guy still made sure not to forget.

"You celebrating my birthday?"

Ian shrugged. "Not every day you turn twenty."

Carl suddenly looked crestfallen. "Wait, so you still can't drink legally?"

Mickey snorted. "Not like anything would change, airhead, I've been drinking since-"

Ian slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't give him any ideas, he's forbidden to drink and it will stay that way."

Mickey smirked. "Ok, dad."

The ex-con then danced away before Ian could hit him.

The next few hours were full of birthday party preparations. Well, it was for Debbie and Ian, Mickey decided to slump in front of the telly with Liam and was soon joined by Carl who tried to get some tips on pick pocketing from him.

It wasn't until ten that the kids finally went to sleep and it took another hour for Ian to be ready to do the same.

"You coming?" he asked softly as he stood behind the couch, his hands on Mickey's shoulders.

"Yeah," grunted Mickey as he heaved himself up and turned off an Arnold Schwarzenegger film, "let's go to bed."

Ian smiled but he looked really tired, so when the redhead just plopped himself onto the bed and started snoring, the thug didn't feel offended. They could have sex some other time, he figured as he crawled underneath the blankets and promptly fell asleep as well.

He woke up to the smell of something roasting and the sound of a loud banging on the front door. Mickey grumbled as he rolled out of bed and squinted at the alarm clock. It was fifteen minutes to twelve.

He grabbed some clean clothes from his bag, realizing he forgot to unpack and Ian didn't do it for him. Lazy fucker, he thought fondly, not having actually expected for his boyfriend to do it. Mickey then headed for the bathroom, where he took a quick shower and brushed his teeth with Ian's toothbrush.

Points to Mandy, he had forgot his own back at the house.

When he felt presentable enough, which basically meant he wasn't covered in blood and didn't smell, he walked downstairs. He was met with a flurry of activity in the kitchen. Debbie was standing behind the cooker, searing some buttered potatoes; Carl was practicing moves with a knife that looked suspiciously like Ian's ROTC issued; Liam was drawing something on a yellowed paper, which was apparently too small for his drawing, so he was colouring the table as well; Ian was sitting at the table, discussing something excitedly with Mandy, the two of them apparently ignoring any lingering feelings from Mandy's side; and Iggy had his head shoved into the fridge, presumably looking for a beer.

It was his brother that first noticed him standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Hey, bro!" he yelled, "Happy fucking birthday."

Mickey rolled his eyes, though secretly pleased at the attention. "Shut up, Ig."

Before he could say anything else, he found himself in the middle of a group hug as every single person, excluding Iggy, threw themselves at him.

"Ok, ok, stop," he got out, "you're suffocating me."

"Icky," came a weak call from somewhere under his legs.

"And you're suffocating Liam," he added as his previous exclamation was met with a lack of concern. The group separated at that and Mickey picked up the little boy when he could finally see him.

"Lunch is ready anyway," called Debbie from where she was again standing behind the counter.

"What's for lunch?" he asked curiously.

"Chicken baked with oranges and potatoes with butter and shallot. There are also some donuts for dessert," she finished with a grin as she started pulling out plates.

Mickey sat down at the table and was instantly served a plate of really good smelling chicken thigh. The rest of the people joining him with their own plates soon after.

A meal and a few beers later, the party had moved into the living room, where he started playing poker with Ian, Iggy and Mandy, while the kids watched some television.

The game was long, with at least eight rounds but he managed to win most of them, so he felt really good about everything. He should've known it wouldn't fucking last.

Ian went into the kitchen, presumably to get more booze, when Iggy intercepted him, so they could talk.

"So," started his brother slowly, "you actually moved here, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So you're what? Gonna be a live-in nanny? Red made a housewife out of you?"

Mickey snorted. "Shut the fuck up."

"Isn't that what this sham is all about though? The guy fucks off to the army and you're gonna keep house and take care of the kids for him, right?"

Mickey shoved Iggy in the chest. "Fuck you, Iggy. I don't know where the fuck this is coming from but I'm not gonna take your bullshit. Not today. You jealous or something?"

"Jealous of what? That you suddenly grew a pair of tits and a cunt?"

Mickey shrugged. "At least I'm getting some," he said and walked past his brother to join Ian and Mandy in front of the TV.

His boyfriend looked at him questioningly but Mickey just shook his head. He would tell him all about it later but he didn't want to ruin Ian's mood. He sat down next to him on the couch and was about to lean into him, when Ian suddenly stood up.

"What?" he asked as he saw the redhead pick something from the table and turn to him.

Ian chuckled uncertainly. "So, I have a present for you."

Mickey grinned at him. "Yeah? Is it safe to open in front of the children?" he asked, despite noticing that Ian was holding an envelope.

His boyfriend grinned. "Get your mind out of the gutter and just open it," he told him as he passed him the envelope.

It was a plain white thing, nothing special, and didn't give him any clues as to what might be inside. The ex-con decided to just rip it open then.

Inside was a shiny thick official-looking paper and Mickey shot Ian a confused look. His boyfriend just smiled at him supportively. Mickey started reading.  
 

_**Chicago School of Music and Arts** _

_This is a gift certificate for 'Professional drawing courses'  in the name of_

_ Mikhail Milkovich _

_Professional drawing courses start on January the 3rd and finish on June the 30th, when the_

_attendee may undergo a final exam and receive a CSMA certificate of an Arts Apprentice._

  
What the fucking hell? Mickey turned to Ian with an astounded look on his face.

"A gift certificate?" he asked dumbly.

"Uh huh."

"You paid for me to go to art school?"

He heard Iggy snort from somewhere behind him but he kept his eyes on his sheepish boyfriend. He couldn't believe Ian did this.

"Well, ah ... I saved up?" Ian shrugged.

"You saved up," he deadpanned.

"Yeah, you know. I figured that if you like it and you pass the final exam, you could get a job in drawing or something. If you wanted, that is."

Mickey swallowed, his throat barely working. That was actually fucking awesome of Ian.

"Thank you," he choked out.

Ian let out a relieved breath before stepping closer to hug him.

"You're welcome," he whispered into his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it :)


	14. The Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly shorter again but that's because it wasn't even meant to be a chapter at first (which is why nothing really happens :)  
> The next one will be the last one in this story and I hope you all are looking forward to that.

Mickey was sitting at the kitchen table, inhaling a bowl of cheap cereal and watching Liam drawing a picture. The boy had given him a picture for is birthday last week and enjoyed the ex-con's reaction so much, he decided he had to give him a picture every day.

Mickey would've complained about all the drawings he had nowhere to stow had Liam not been so fucking cute every time he presented him with a new art piece.

"Icky?"

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"How much wheels has bus?"

The thug grinned. "How many wheels does a bus have, Liam."

Liam shrugged, still looking expectantly at his mentor, not caring about grammar at that moment.

"Four."

Mickey watched as the preschooler went back to his drawing, adding at least eight wheels to the rectangle that was probably meant to be a bus.

Cute little fucker.

Mickey rose from his seat and went over to the kitchen sink to wash his bowl, when he looked out of the kitchen widow. It started snowing. For the first time that winter.

"Hey, buddy," started Mickey, "you wanna go out for a walk with me? It's snowing."

Liam visibly brightened. "Yes! It's snowing!"

The ex-con grinned as he plucked the unfinished picture out of the boy's hands, telling him he could finish it later, before bundling him up carefully in his winter jacket and leaving the house, locking the door behind them.

It felt nice, he realized, to actually take care of people and have them appreciate it. Sure that Mandy and Iggy needed him to fix this or that sometimes, but the Gallagher kids seemed to look up to him for every single thing he did.

He fixed the waffle iron - it wasn't really that hard, just a broken wire in the cable - and Debbie basically smothered him in grateful hugs. He managed to find a new hiding place for Carl's shit - which was actually a good parenting move since he could now keep track of the stuff the little maniac brought home - and in return received a look of such hero worship, he felt a bit uncomfortable. He managed to teach Liam a few new words every day, improving the little guy's speech in a fast tempo, which always earned him a watery smile and a grateful make-out session with Ian. And Liam himself seemed to adore every single thing he did or said no matter what it was. The only trouble was he took to repeating everything so Mickey found himself trying not to swear as frequently as he was used to.

"Are we going to the park?"

Mickey looked to his left, where Liam was slowly stomping through the thin layer of quickly-melting snow. "If you want, though you can't play with sand, it's bound to be all frozen up."

"Frozen up?"

"Uh huh, very cold and hard."

Liam nodded his head. "Ok, Icky."

The ex-con rolled his eyes. "You know that's not my name, right? We spelled my name yesterday."

"Mickey," pronounced Liam carefully but without hesitation.

"That's right."

They spent the rest of their walk to the kid's park in silence, Liam tiring slowly along the way before perking up again, when the park came in sight.

"Icky!" he yelled, clearly forgetting their conversation, "the park!"

Mickey sighed as he saw that he wasn't the only person, who took a kid out in the first snow. There were three women sitting on the benches, some plastic sheets underneath their asses, presumably to keep them from getting cystitis or something; and there were four children running wildly among the metal climbing frames and swing sets.

Mickey led Liam towards a plastic slide, which was - purely on accident - the furthest standing piece of equipment from the mothers.

"Here, you can slide for a few minutes."

"It's freezed up," commented the boy as he touched the icy suface.

Mickey grinned. "I know but can you imagine how fast it'll go?"

That seemed to appease him and before Mickey could react, Liam was up on the slide and sitting down in preparation for his ride. Twenty minutes later, Mickey was cold as fuck but glad that Liam seemed to have had fun as they made their way back home.

It was past three when they finally entered their house, which gave Mickey only about twenty minutes to cook something before Debbie and Carl came home.

Now, normally he wouldn't cook. First of all, he didn't like cooking, second of all, Debbie was a lot better at it than him and didn't mind doing it. However the kids had been all grumpy and sulky the past few days, realizing Ian was leaving for his army training in six days and Mickey felt like he had to make it easier for them, despite the fact that he himself hated it as much as they did. If not more.

At least Liam was ignorant of the tension.

Mickey left the little boy at the kitchen table, so he could finish his drawing, while Mickey opened the freezer in search of something quick to cook. He found a frozen slab of leaf spinach.

Well fuck.

He opened the fridge, finding milk, eggs, some cream cheese, a jar of jam and some butter. Ok, this could work, he thought. If he managed to locate some pasta as well, he could work with fucking spinach.

Ten minutes later Mickey had a pot of water boiling on the cooker, butter, cream cheese, spinach and milk sitting on the counter next to him. He poured the pasta he had found into the pot, before grabbing his phone and texting Ian.

_"Can you buy some groceries on your way home?"_

He received a response five minutes later, when he was melting the spinach in a bit of milk:

_"Sure."_

And another text right after that:

_"Lov you."_

And another:

_"*love"_

Mickey grinned at the little screen in his hand. Ian could be a right prat sometimes but Mickey loved him too.

The kids arrived just when Mickey finished mixing the pasta with the sauce, silently making their way upstairs to dump their schoolbags. They had learnt to do that after Mickey 'accidentally' spilled his beer over both of their bags, when he got pissed he had to avoid tripping over them every time he went to get something from the fridge.

"How was school?" he asked when they trampled their way back down.

Debbie just grunted, while Carl smirked: "Managed to trade my old Nokia for Jeremy Pink-Ham's new iPhone. Cool right?"

Mickey groaned. "His name is Bingham, Carl. And I hope, for your sake, he actually knows you traded it."

Carl shrugged. "I won it at poker during the main break."

"Good for you, sit down, so we can eat."

They ate, they watched TV, Liam finished his drawing and went to sleep before Ian came home, groceries in hand.

"Hey guys!" he greeted them, looking tired but satisfied after his gym shift.

Mickey went to him to give him a kiss, before taking the shopping bag from his hand and taking it to the kitchen, while listening to the Gallaghers talking in the next room.

"You finally home, huh?" asked Debbie, her voice bitter.

Ian sighed. "Debs, I'm sorry you're upset, but can't you be at least a little bit happy for me?"

"Why? You're leaving us, just like Fiona. Just like Lip."

Ian cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm leaving - because army is my dream - but I'm not leaving you stumped. I will bring a lot more money to the plate, so you can be comfortable."

Debbie gave a watery chuckle. "But you're still leaving Ian. You won't be here."

"Mickey will be here," said Ian softly, "he'll be here whenever you need him."

Mickey watched from the kitchen doorway as Debbie went to hug Ian. "Will you come back?" he heard her ask quietly.

"Of course, I couldn't live without you guys," he assured her, his eyes meeting Mickey's over the girl's shoulder, "Any of you."

Later when Mickey and Ian were lying in their bed, breathing heavily from their most recent round of fucking, Mickey couldn't help but comment: "You don't know if you're coming back, Ian."

His boyfriend turned his head to look at him, his eyes warm. "I know, but I can promise you I will try my hardest to keep that promise."

Mickey opened his mouth, presumably to say something sappy, when his phone gave a loud chirp. The text was from Iggy.

_"your hubby left yet?"_

Mickey sighed, sending back an emoticon of a middle finger.

_"ok sorry man. just wondering if you need a shouldr to cry on."_

The ex-con rolled his eyes.

" _That your idea of apology?"_

_"yeah?"_

Ian, who was watching the conversation over his shoulder, snorted. "Just forgive him, you know he's sorry," he told him.

Mickey shrugged. "I know. Doesn't mean gotta make it easy for him."

Ian rolled his eyes, heaving himself from the bed and pulling up some pyjama trousers, while Mickey replied to his brother:

_"Ok asshat. Just don't say shit like that again, K?"_

_"k"_

Mickey watched Ian as he walked around their room, tidying up their clothes a bit, his ROTC dog tags swinging on his neck along with the necklace Mickey had given him.

He decided to write his brother a one last text before he went to sleep.

_"He's leaving this Sunday."_


	15. Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. The last chapter :)

He wasn't going to fucking cry, he told himself as he watched Ian from the corner of his eye. The redhead was dressed in his ROTC uniform, even the cap, as he was sitting behind the wheel of their beat-up Ford, driving the whole family to the recruiting station, where Ian was supposed to get on the military bus.

It was half past six on Sunday morning and Ian was leaving for the extensive training. It was an understatement to say that the mood in the car was sober. Debbie was pretending that the water on her face weren't tears, Carl was awfully quiet and was playing with Ian's knife, Liam was staring out of the window, letting out a quiet snuffle every now and then and he himself was swallowing every five seconds to keep himself from crying like a little bitch.

Ian was leaving and despite the fact that Mickey had been expecting in for weeks, it still caught him unawares. What was he supposed to do now?

Ian told him he would come back to him, that he loved him and that he couldn't do it without him, which was all very nice to hear but it didn't stop Mickey's chest tightening at the thought of living without Ian.

At least his siblings were now both supportive of his relationship, though Iggy was still a bit pissed at Ian for leaving Mickey, and told him that whenever he needed something, they would help him.

"Are we there yet?" asked Debbie quietly from the back seat.

Ian glanced at the dashboard clock. "Five more minutes, Debs."

"Oh."

"You can't wait till you're rid of me?" asked Ian jokingly.

Debbie scowled. "Yeah right, because I'm so happy that you're leaving.

Mickey felt he needed to step in at that point, he didn't want anyone to argue during Ian's last minutes with them. "Debbie," he said in a warning tone.

The redheaded girl folded her arms across her chest. "What?" she spat petulantly.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "You really want Ian to leave remembering you as a bitchy hormone-driven twat?"

"No," she uttered quietly.

"Then you have your answer."

Mickey turned towards the driver's seat, smiling weakly at Ian, who in turn gave him a grateful look.

The Gallaghers were quiet the rest of the way.

As Ian pulled up next to a grey old bus and got out of the car, Mickey turned to the kids. "Be nice to him, ok? Despite what it may look like, he doesn't wanna fucking leave you, got it? He's just as sad as you lot are."

Debbie rolled her eyes but nodded her head in acquiescence. Mickey turned to Carl and Liam, making sure both boys nodded as well, before finally getting out of the car. He watched as his boyfriend pulled his bag out of the boot before walking a few steps away to stand uncertainly in front of the recruitment station.

"You ready?" he asked Ian, when he joined him on the pavement.

The redhead hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. "Not really," he sighed.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Don't get all sappy on me, soldier. You'll be fine."

Ian grinned at him. "Yeah. You too, Mick."

Mickey bit his lip. "Yeah."

"So, when are you leaving?" asked Carl when the kids made their way over to the two men.

Ian looked down at his brother. "When they call my name, I have to come up to that guy over there," he pointed at a blond guy in an uniform, "so he can check me off. Then I board the bus."

Carl nodded and went to say something else, when Debbie shoved him out of the way and threw herself at Ian. "I'm going to miss you, Ian," she cried as she buried her head in her brother's chest.

"I know," Ian told her, his voice breaking almost unnoticeably, "I'll miss you too, Debs."

Liam, who always joined a hug when he saw one, wrapped his small arms around his older brother's leg. "Ian!" he shouted, "I love you."

Ian laughed. "I love you too, buddy."

When Debbie let go, Carl stepped forward. "So," he started slowly, "I can keep your knife, right?"

"Yeah, just don't kill anyone, all right? If you're in trouble, talk to Mickey."

Carl rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid."

Ian's face softened. "No, you're not. Be nice to your sister."

"Why?"

"So that you don't piss her off, I want to come back to find you alive and well."

Carl rolled his eyes again but shot his sister an uncertain look. Debbie just stared at him, lips pressed into a tight line. Mickey could swear he saw the teenage boy swallow in apprehension. He could relate, he himself was sometimes a bit afraid of Mandy, though he would never admit that aloud.

Ian then bent down to pick up Liam and crushed the little boy to his chest.

"I'm gonna miss you," he rolled out.

"Me too," whispered Liam, though Mickey didn't know if it was because he was too emotional or too suffocated to speak louder.

"Franklin!" came a loud call from the Sergeant Ian pointed out earlier, who was standing with a roll call paper next to the bus.

They were at 'f' already, Mickey realized.

He turned to the kids. "Well, say goodbye to Ian, he'll need to go soon."

Debbie looked like she might cry again but she managed to stop herself in time. "Bye Ian."

"Bye Ian," came from Carl.

Liam just waved his little hand.

Mickey then stepped up to Ian, not sure what he could and couldn't do in front of his boyfriend fellow soldiers. Ian took the decision out of his hands, when he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"I'll miss you like crazy," he whispered against the ex-con's ear.

"Yeah," he paused in order to swallow heavily, "you too, Firecrotch."

Ian let out a watery laugh. "Make sure they're all right, ok?"

Mickey nodded.

"And you. Keep yourself safe as well."

Mickey closed his eyes tightly as a loud call came from somewhere behind him: "Gaborik!"

Ian released him from his embrace. "I'm probably next."

Mickey sighed. "Yeah."

"Well," Ian smiled uncertainly, "see you soon?"

Mickey nodded but just as he was about to step away from Ian, his body decided to defy him. Mickey fell against his boyfriend again, his lips pressing against Ian's mouth desperately. He felt his boyfriend go rigid for a second, before slowly opening his mouth.

Needles to say, the ex-con enjoyed the fuck out of that kiss. He figured that if the next time they kissed was in a year, he had to take what he could now.

Ian moaned into his mouth just as the Sergeant called: "Gallagher!"

"That's my cue," he said breathlessly.

Mickey nodded. "Yeah."

"Love you."

"Love you too. Now go."

Ian nodded, pecked his cheek and went. It was then that Mickey's brain decided to remind him of the fact that this could be the last time he saw him. Ian could be called to active duty right after finishing his training and he could literally die in some fucking Islamic State or wherever.

Mickey took a shuddering breath as tears started stinging in his eyes. And for the first time since he started dating Ian, he didn't mind he was behaving like a hormonal bitch. As he felt Debbie wrap her arm around his waist, he let the tears fall. So what if he was crying? Not like men didn't have fucking tear ducts, it was all fucking right to use them sometimes.

He watched as Ian showed his ID to the roll call guy before stepping into the bus. He baited his breath as Ian stuck his head back out and sent them all a kiss.

The cute fucker.

Mickey let out a chuckle and waved at his boyfriend to get in the bus. Ian smiled before his head disappeared. It was then that Debbie let out a sob and Mickey realized he had to be the strong one right then.

He picked up Liam, who was clinging to his jacket, and turned to Debbie to envelope her into a one armed hug. He felt Carl press into his side as well and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could take care of the kids because they needed him - and wasn't that a nice fucking feeling - and he could wait for Ian to come back.

They stood there like that for the remaining twenty minutes it took for the soldiers to organize themselves before watching as the bus pulled away from the curb. Liam was waving frantically, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ian but Mickey knew it was useless. The soldiers all looked the same in their uniforms and stupid caps and were probably told to keep to their seats anyway.

That still didn't prevent Mickey from feeling a pang in his chest, when the bus rounded a corner and Mickey hadn't caught a glimpse of his boyfriend.

Fucking army. Fucking training. Fucking Ian and his fucking stupid dreams.

"Let's go then," he told the kids and hauled them towards their Ford, noticing absentmindedly they forgot to lock it.

"Can we go somewhere to eat?" asked Carl, twisting Ian's knife in his hands.

"Sure," agreed Mickey, "where to?"

"Let's get some burgers," said Debbie from the passenger seat, her voice carrying no signs of distress anymore which Mickey had to admire.

"Ok."

"And can we not go to school tomorrow?" asked Carl again.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "No fucking chance. You don't get to milk Ian leaving for any longer than today. Tomorrow you're off to school like normal. Besides, it's like ten days till Christmas."

Carl shrugged. "Was worth a try."

When they finally arrived home that day - after having stupidly expensive lunch, walking around the neighbourhood for fucking hours before having equally expensive dinner - they were all exhausted. Liam was put straight to sleep, Debbie going up not long after and Carl fell asleep while watching some black and white horror movie.

The house felt horribly empty without Ian's cheerful persona there and when Mickey finally retired to bed at eleven, it felt even emptier.

He was half asleep, when his phone chirped with a text message.

_"I love you."_

Mickey smiled. Who would have thought just a few months ago that he would be here, with a hot boyfriend, kids that adored him and a potential to actually achieve something if he attended his drawing classes.

Who would have thought he would be fucking happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this journey with me and that you like this last bit just as much as you seemed to like the rest. It's a little bit angsty but I tried to show the progress Mickey has made during his relationship with Ian. I also hope I managed to demonstrate the fact that Mickey's worth is not entirely dependent on Ian :)


End file.
